


Wildest Dream

by Stucky_Girl



Series: Reach For The Stars [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I have no idea what I'm doing, Light Bondage, Multi, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, bear with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stucky_Girl/pseuds/Stucky_Girl
Summary: Aislynn spent most of her life in hiding, afraid her father Alexander Pierce would find her and finish what he started. When news of his death and the fall of Hydra make the news, she decides it was time to make the rest pay for what they done to her and others. With the assistance of her bestie Pete, Aislynn blazes her way across Europe, outing hidden cells and befriending a man with a wicked arm and a more dangerous smile.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

August 1980

Aislynn woke chilled to the bone, groggy and confused as to where she was located. The last thing she remembered clearly was Johnny (or was it Tony?) passing her a pill while they danced along with the crowd. Patches of her night weaved together, making absolutely no sense to her exhausted brain. Did she ditch her friends to walk in the woods, or had that been part of the "experience"?  _Later_ , she decided. Later she would talk to her friends and figure out what she had been doing all night. For now, she would get some water, maybe a nice shower to wash away the funk. It would help wake her up the rest of the way.

Grunting with the effort to move her limbs, she came to realize her second, much greater, problem. She couldn't move at all. No matter how much she fought, her arms and legs were not moving. Panic flooded her body and her eyes flew open, bright lights above her instantly blinding her. "Shit," she groaned, slamming her eyes shut once more. Tears prickled at the back of her eyelids, soothing the initial burn from the light, and she took infinite care to ease them open on her next try. Side to side her head turned, her confusion mounting as her focus went from the thick metal bands crossing her body to the numerous machines circling her prone position. "What the hell?" she muttered, trying to take it all in at once. 

Heart racing, she fought to free her hands and feet, momentarily forgetting about the bands crossing her chest and hips. She had to get out. She didn't know what was going on, but she didn't like it. There was nothing stand up about being bound to a metal table surrounded by beeping machines. Was she in a hospital? It could explain the few monitors she did recognize, like that one that read the heart beat and stuff. But it didn't tell her anything about the others, the ones she couldn't begin to describe.  _I need to do that, cops can help me. They need to know what to look for._ And so she tried, focused as she tugged on her wrists, working to memorize that damned machines. 

"Relax, Aislynn," a deep, familiar voice called from the opposite side of the room. 

_Oh, thank God!_ She was saved. All her fighting stopped promptly and she even smiled with joy. "Dad," she breathed, turning her head in the direction she heard his voice. They hadn't spoken in several years, for reasons unknown to her, but she never stopped loving her father. And to know he was there to help her... well, she could forgive him for the scare tactics. She really shouldn't have run away from home. And the drugs weren't all that smart. She could admit that. He did this because he loved her and didn't want anything bad to happen to her. He was a politician. He knew how bad things were. He didn't need to say anything, explain anything because she knew. She  _knew_. "Daddy," she said again, her voice much softer with her relief. "I'm so glad to see you." This was just a scare tactic.

Her father walked over, stopping beside her strapped hand, to frown disapprovingly down his nose at her. She understood. She did a horrible thing. She scared her mother. Shame filled her, as she knew that was the point of his hardened stare. "Aislynn," he tutted. "Do I need to explain this to you?" His thick blond hair was immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place. Did he even know how to age? He looked so  _youthful_  compared to her worn mother, his blue eyes bright and unmarred by the usual wrinkles at the corners. He was dressed sharp in his pale suit, his red tie the only beacon of color to his ensemble. 

"No, Daddy," she said dutifully, shaking her head as best she could. It was a wonder she didn't look more like her father, instead only being graced with his strong jawline and a slight lightening of her hair. She wasn't even as pale as her father. Not that she didn't think her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, because she was; Aislynn was just a curious mix of her parents: caramel-colored hair, striking green eyes, ever-present tan. She was tall for a woman, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and strong legs. Taller than her mother, darker than her father. Never simply one or the other. Such was the story of her life. "I screwed up. It won't happen again."

He scoffed at her assurance and waved it away as if it had been an annoying gnat. "That doesn't matter now," he said firmly, though a heartbeat later he was smiling happily and patting her hand. She didn't know what to make of the gesture, however, and stared up at him, perplexed. "I've found your purpose in life, dear girl. And it just landed in my lap! How outstanding is that to hear? You're aimless, miscreant lifestyle finally has it uses."

Eyes widening in shock, Aislynn took a minute to process the anguish she felt at his evident disapproval at the way her life turned out. Yes, she was a screw-up. Yes, she could have done better by her mother and, distantly, him. But it was harsh for him to demean the way she was living her life. "Dad-" The sound of a door squeaking open then smacking shut interrupted anything she had to say. Turning her head toward the sound, she caught sight of several doctors and even armed guards filing into the room, the men in lab coats pushing a cart into the room that held a blue-glowing box on top. In all, she couldn't decide what to be more terrified of: the guns, the doctors, or that strange blue glow. Bewildered, she flicked her eyes to her father, silently asking what was going on.

He patted her hand again, not unkindly, before stepping away. "It's time to serve your country, Aislynn," he said resolutely. "We are in need of a new service and not just any person would do. No, I had the perfect subject in mind when I thought of you. You're going to send me to new heights, dear girl!" He turned to the team of doctors that lined the wall to her right, stating, "I'll return in a week for an update." 

She watched as each doctor nodded in turn, watched as her father glided toward the door. "Dad?" Aislynn called, panic setting in once again. Was he really going to leave her here?  _Where is here?_  "No!" She fought with renewed vigor, screaming for her father to return. She understood, alright? She wouldn't make a mockery of her mother again! She would do right by her family! The doctors and guards that filled the room ignored her pleas for help. "Daddy!" She screamed until her throat ached, fought the restraints until her skin was cut open. But he never come for her. 

The reality of her situation sank in when the doctors circled the table, white masks covering parts of their faces. They arranged a tray of instruments between their bodies, used a pen to write onto her skin in various places. Tears leaked from her eyes as she asked hoarsely, "Please, let me go." They chuckled at her request and jabbed a needle into her arm. 

She didn't know how long it lasted, but she could have sworn they ran the flames of Hell directly into her veins for days on end. She rarely stayed conscious through their "procedures", as they labeled them. The few times she was lucid, she was able to count the needle tracks racing from her elbow to her wrist. For unknown reasons, the sight had her crying the hardest of all. 

The next she saw of her father, he stood on the other side of a glass wall regarding her critically. She couldn't hear what he had to say, but he was having a heated discussion with one of the doctors in his little room. Her cell, because she was not ever going to call it a room, was devoid of any life save her own. For some reason even the guards wouldn't go near her. What did she do that was so wrong? 

Tired. So tired. Wobbling with exhaustion, she eased onto the floor of her cell and curled into a ball on her side, fully intent on sleeping until she just didn't wake again. From far away she heard her father's commanding voice, telling her to get back to her feet. She attempted to tell him she couldn't, wouldn't. She was staying right where she lay, so fuck you, Mr. Father of the Year.

The door of her cell shrieked open, and she spotted two guards stomp to her side. One held a large gun in her direction while the other grasped her arm in a painful grip, yanking her upright. What happened next must have been a hallucination or vivid dream, because lightning leaped from her body to  _envelope_  both guards. They screamed in pain, fought to be free of the glowing bubble. She watched absently as their skin began to smoke, then blister, before finally melting completely. Only then did their screams cease. 

Strangely enough, she felt a tiny bit more awake.  _Curious_. She still wanted to sleep, but not as long as before. 

In her peripheral vision she could see her father losing his shit. She turned just enough to see him. His arms were being thrown in the air, his face was as red as his tie, and if she focused just right, she could see spit fly from his lips. He was angry. But why? Did the doctors not do their job correctly?  _Har_ _har_ _._

The room went black and when she opened her eyes again, she was strapped back to the table and the doctors stood over her with more needles. They did something wrong, she heard dimly. They had to find a way to correct their mistake before Mr. Pierce returned. He had been so angry, the last time. How did she  _melt_  her guards? That would not do for the Asset. They needed longer to correct the formula, was all. They had been rushed. Was he questioning their orders? No, of course not. Hail Hydra.

Aislynn had enough of their strange conversation, despite wanting to know what a hydra was and what was the deal with an asset. They should have had plenty of assets, being doctors and all. Sighing, she closed her eyes. Screams filled the air, energy filled her veins. Nosy as to the commotion, she opened her eyes. The doctors no longer circled her prone body.  _Where did they go? s_ he wondered. It took too much out of her to turn her head, so she just closed her eyes again and returned to peaceful sleep.

On and on her life went, until she didn't even know what year it was. The only reason she knew it had been so long was her hair: it had grown an extra foot in her time locked away. She had long since ceased asking to be released, no longer begged for her mother, refused to acknowledge her father when he did  _honor_  them all with his presence. Once, from the corner of her darkened cell, she watched as a pack of guards would walk by, escorting a single person through the halls. When someone noticed her watching their routines, they would tranq her from a safe distance and she would wake in a new part of the facility. 

Until one day she didn't. 

Body on fire, Aislynn groaned pitifully and rolled to her side. Those guards sucked with their aim. Did they not see her protruding clavicle when they aimed for her neck? "Bastards," she murmured, reaching to rub at her shoulder. The damn point broke off into her bone and had yet to work its way free of her body. Which sucked, because it was going to take  _forever_  to push through that layer of skin until she could pull it out on her own. 

Something tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze uncontrollably for several seconds. "The hell?" Frowning, she opened her eyes and took in the sight around her. Gone was the dark, dank cell. There was no chill in the air this time around. No, all that she was familiar with was gone. Instead she had woken in the middle of a forest clearing with only a small stack of clothing at her feet and a wallet full of cash. How did she get here? Where were her guards? Where was  _she_? 

_Why the hell does it matter?! Fucking run, you idiot!_

She didn't have to tell herself twice. Quickly she changed out of the tattered dress she had worn the last however many years and pulled on the fresh clothes waiting for her. They smelled so clean, and whoever it was had folded each item so carefully. And they all fit! Even the shoes! Again, though she knew she was alone in those woods, she searched for whoever had freed her. She could never repay them enough for getting her out. The clothes and cash were just a bonus in comparison. 

One day, she would find them. One day.

\----

November 2005

In the ten years since her strange escape, Aislynn had learned a lot. Number one being: Control her fear or things explode. That had taken some time to master, the ability to stop jumping at shadows. It certainly saved her from purchasing a new coffee pot every few weeks or just tossing out the television because she melted the thing while making a midnight trip to the bathroom. 

Thing two: Never, ever stay in one place for too long. Especially small towns. If she wanted to remain unnoticed, she was better off in large cities where it was easier to blend in. Why? Within a year she had been tracked by Hydra agents in some backwoods town because she inadvertently blew up a business sign. (Oh yes, she knew all about Hydra as well. That hadn't been creepy and terrifying at all!) 

Thing three: Always, always follow the news. Especially when it pertains to Alexander Pierce. No explanation required.

The final thing she had learned over the years was, aside from whatever they put in her that had her electrocuting random objects, was that she aged slowly. Biologically, she was in her fifty-five. Physically... She wouldn't put her physical appearance over mid-twenties. It required extra care when associating with society. How strange would it be for someone to see her face and remember her from a decade ago, where they aged and she had not? So she stayed as far under the radar as she possibly can. The less people knew about her, the better. 

She did love the future, though. All the gadgets, cell phones, laptops.  _Music players!_  That was the best. Now she can take all her music and download it onto that tiny device and listen to any song she wanted at any given moment. And school! She didn't receive  _those_  looks when going into a college classroom these days. She was welcomed, even, with figurative open arms. She soaked up any and all information she could get her hands on. She was turning into a fountain of pretty useless information.

She didn't even care.

She also spent a good portion of her time horizontal. Of sorts. She couldn't pass up the chance to do it with the guys she had the pleasure of meeting. Sure, some of them were duds, but a good portion knew what they were doing or were willing to do it the way she wanted. What a time to be alive!

There were times, however, that the pit of her stomach left her craving something...more. No, not a child. She wouldn't even know what to do with a kid. No, the craving was for that bite of pain when with a partner. She didn't recall having that need before being captured, though her sexual-conquest list was less than a handful Before. After left a considerably higher number, but only taunted that strange beast taking up residence under her skin. Eventually she cut back on the number of partners in favor of quality, though that rarely turned up something worth going back for. In the end she settled for scratching her itch a few times a year, all the while waiting for someone to feed that craving.

She crossed the country several times over the years, steering clear of those small towns and the capitol. The people she met were fantastic. The places she had seen outstanding. It left her yearning to see more of the world, though she didn't dare leave the safety of the country. Her father had considerable reach, she realized one day when she was reading up on his newest accomplishments. He had friends in high and low places all across the globe. She couldn't risk being found. So she moved from city to city, staying in one place anywhere from six months to a year. Always prepared to dash at the first sign of trouble. It was safer that way.

The only routine she carried with her was visiting her mother's grave once a year, either the day of her birth or the day of her death. According to what Aislynn had read in an old newspaper, her mother had died in a car accident on her way home from work just a few years after her capture. It broke her heart to know that her mother never found out what happened to her. But once a year, she would stop what she was doing and take the drive to Maryland, just to spend a couple hours catching her mother up on the ins and outs of her life. 

That November afternoon found Aislynn packing her few belongs into the back of her beat up car. She had a decent amount of money saved up from her random jobs over the years, so she wasn't overly worried about rushing to her newest destination. But something in her gut said it was time to go. It wasn't a feeling of imminent danger, just a calling for her to be... somewhere else. Soon. 

\----

April 2010

Aislynn unlocked the door to her little apartment and smacked on the light. "Here we are." She waved the boy into the living room and made a show of giving him time to look around. It wasn't much. It never was; she never required much to live happily. But her place was enough, perfect in its simplicity. "Make yourself at home." She locked the door, hung her keys near the kitchen counter, and rifled in the fridge for something quick to eat. The boy, Pete, inspected every item in her sparsely decorated home, pausing now and then to take an extra-long look at things that caught his attention. She didn't mind, though she did murmur, "Careful with that," when he lifted her camera from its resting place on the bookshelf. "It keeps me fed."

He merely nodded and returned it to the shelf.

She watched him a moment longer before busying herself at the stove. "Hungry?" She didn't expect him to answer, honestly. He hadn't said much since she found him on the street. Poor thing, he looked wrecked and lonely and she just couldn't ignore him if she tried. Something about him spoke to her, as if he were a kindred spirit seeking a safe harbor. Again he nodded, so she set about preparing breakfast for dinner. "If you would like to clean up, you're more than welcome. I have some old clothes that might fit you for the night. Don't worry, nothing girly. Ex-boyfriend. Very manly and such. I keep his things around for when I'm doing projects," she rambled, filling the silence so he could become comfortable with her. "How do you like your eggs? I'm not the best, but I can do pretty much anything. I'm aces at scrambled, though."

That earned her a teensy smile and boy was she glad of it. He seemed like the kind who didn't smile enough in his young life. "Scrambled, please."

She gave him a thumb's up. "Excellent choice, my friend. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast coming your way. Wash your hands first." She pointed at the sink with the silver spatula and began cooking, humming a little song under her breath all the while. From the corner of her eye she spied him soaping his hands clean in the deep sink then drying them on the small dish towel draped over the edge of the sink. She instructed him on how to set the table, pointing out where he could find the plates and utensils. By the time he finished prepping the table for two, she had half a dozen eggs scrambled to utter perfection and placed in the center of the table. She continued to chat, keeping the conversation light while also hedging for details outside of his name. 

She could guess the basics of his life. He was in his late teens, most likely still in high school. His family was Asian, though she couldn't pinpoint further than that. His clothes were worn, leaving her to figure he had been on the streets a long while. His family must have been terrified for his safety. She would be, if she were in their shoes. He was polite, if a bit too quiet for her taste. Throughout dinner she kept up the majority of the conversation, with him sporadically tossing in a comment or two concerning the topic. He was smart as a whip, she was quick to learn. 

And he could put away some eggs and bacon.

She chuckled as he cleaned his second heaping plate, offering to cook more. "No, thank you," he murmured, taking their dirty dishes to the sink. He took it upon himself to wash everything, despite her protests. In the end, he firmly informed her he was going to do the cleaning or he was going to leave, that it was her choice. She quickly shut her trap and retrieved fresh clothes for him to wear.

Weeks passed and Pete was still living with her. When she brought up the topic of contacting his family, he fairly panicked and pleaded with her to not call anyone. "Were you in danger?" she had asked him softly, reaching for his hand in comfort. "You don't have to give me details if you don't want to, but I do need to know something."

He hesitated briefly before bobbing his chin affirmatively. 

She could see the fear and pain in his eyes, mirroring so close to her own those first few months after her escape. It left her wondering what his family could have possibly done to him to create that terror in their own flesh and blood.  _Who am I kidding_ , she told herself, remembering what her father had done to her. "Then you're safe here," she promised, giving his hand a squeeze which he returned. "If you ever change your mind, I'll be in your corner. But until then, no other soul will know where you are." 

\----

New Orleans

January 2014

Aislynn listened with half an ear to the television as it played in the living room. Nothing interesting was going on, so she could afford to have her attention elsewhere. Namely, cooking breakfast. Two eggs, scrambled. Four slices of bacon, just on the edible side of burnt. It was rather late in the morning to be having such a meal, but she wasn't due to be at work for another couple hours. She was  _allowed_  this free time to do with as she pleased.

Just as she was slathering a thin layer of Miracle Whip onto a slice of bread, an announcement on the television broke her concentration. Her green eyes flicked toward the small flat screen curiously and she reached for the remote on the table to turn up the volume. "Our apologies for interrupting your regularly scheduled program," Richard Babin said gravely into the camera. "We have breaking news on a still unfolding event within Washington, D.C. this morning. S.H.I.E.L.D., the counter-terrorism agency which brought together the Avengers, is under attack. Here is a live shot of the events as they continue to develop." Babin's face disappeared from the screen, only to be replaced less than a blink later by a smoking building and crashing helicarriers. 

Aislynn's mouth dropped open in shock. Blindly she reached to turn off her stove, shoved the pans away from the heated grates, and stumbled her way into the living room. She bypassed her small couch and sank onto the second-hand coffee table, eyes glued to the screen. No longer was she listening to the news anchors. Her attention was riveted on the chunks of metal falling from the sky into the river below. She didn't need to know  _why_  it was happening. She already knew. She knew and could not decide on whether she should be terrified or elated. 

Terrified because if the good guys figured it out, learned exactly what had been going on under their noses for all those years, her own secrets would be found out as well. They would come for her, though she had done nothing wrong. Her greatest crime was being born to that psychopath. 

Her elation went hand in hand with the reason why she was scared. Alexander Pierce wouldn't be able to get his hands on her again. She would be free of that monster, would be able to come out of hiding for the first time in nearly two decades. She could cry from the relief. 

Sucking in a trembling breath, she reached out for the cell phone charging beside the television, the device beeping like mad and demanding her scrutiny. It lit up when the charger was disconnected, revealing several notifications waiting for her response. Emails, social media, a couple games. What took her focus was the Twitter beckon displayed in the long line. Curiosity getting the better of her, she opened the app and flicked through the newest additions to the main feed. "No way," she breathed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

Her ears began to tingle a split second before someone knocked on her door. "Lenny," a deep voice called through the heavy wood. "Open up. We need to talk."

She wasted no time in doing as requested. The door barely closed behind her longtime friend before she said, "They did it." Eyes wide, she held out her phone so he could look for himself. "They did it, Pete. Can you believe it?"

Pete was a relatively young man, having just reached his twenty-first birthday two months earlier. His real name wasn't Pete, of course, he simply refused to use his given name of Huang. She had asked him once why he would choose to use something so plain for a name, when he was hardly a plain man.  _"You're too brilliant to be just Pete!"_  she had argued firmly. And he was. In their time together, he had gone from being behind his peers in his schooling to skyrocketing right on by with little to no effort. He was more of a Charles than a Pete, she remembered telling him that night.

Sticking to their original arrangement, he wouldn't go into details outside of stating he was also from a shit-tastic family, who could give her own father a run for his money. From that moment on she respected his wish and only referred to him as Pete. She understood better than most the weight of a sordid past would have on a person's present and future. 

He took in the numerous posts about the S.H.I.E.L.D. file dump before handing the phone back. "They would have done it sooner had you done what I said years ago and told them yourself," he said with a shrug. "But what's done is done. Our objective now is to make a plan. Where do you go from here?"

She chewed on her lip nervously. "How do I know he's dead?" she asked quietly. "I can't do anything until I know he's gone."

Pete grinned cheerfully at that. "We take a trip, of course." 

Two days later Aislynn stood at the window of her hotel room, gazing down at the street below. It was familiar, yet different at the same time. It had been so long since she had set foot in the capitol that most of everything had changed. Once, she would have considered it her home. Long ago. Now, it was like stepping onto foreign soil, the kind where if she didn't watch her back she could possibly end up dead. Or worse. 

"Here." She twisted her stance slightly when Pete re-entered the room, arms full of newspapers. Her brows drew down in a frown when he dropped the stack on the otherwise empty table and motioned for her to step over. "He's out. So are several others. I think you are officially in the clear, more or less anyway." 

Her father's face plastered the front of several of the papers in black and white, appearing stately in his suit. Her lip curled. "All that I care about is that he is dead," she murmured, turning away from the papers. "I can move on with my life, happy that I no longer share the same planet as him."

Pete nodded thoughtfully and inquired, "What will you do now?"

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. What  _would_  she do? She could traipse the world, take in all the sights she had missed during her hiding. It was a wonderful idea, really. One she would get around to in the future. For now... "I have some business I need to tend to first," she said finally, retrieving a file folder from her purse. "Are you up for an adventure, Petie?"

Her friend smiled widely. "Always."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Paris, France

October 2014

"Clairebear!" 

Aislynn rolled her eyes but smiled fondly at Pete. "Honestly," she muttered, grasping the coffee cups from the counter after paying, and turned to spot her friend sitting in the sunshine. She couldn't blame him really. It was a gorgeous day and the sun should be soaked in as long as possible. Where they were going next would leave to questionable days in concerns of enjoyable sunlight. She joined him and passed his cup over. "I'm trying to  _not_  draw attention, honey. Can't do that if you are shrieking my name all over the place."

He waved off her concern in favor of tasting the coffee. "We are set for tonight," he said. 

She nodded her head and gazed out of the window, drinking in the sight before her. "I think," she murmured, holding her cup to her lips, "when I'm finished, I will settle here."

"Can you even speak French?"

"Some," she conceded after a brief consideration of his point. "But it won't be all that hard. It seems reasonably simple. And I'm a quick learner." She nodded slowly, gazing out at the city before her. In the midday light, it sparkled like a thousand diamonds. People bustled about on the streets, cars zoomed by, everyone content with their lot in life. "Yes. I think this will be it. This will be my home."

"So, you have a long-term goal in mind," Pete said, giving her a pleased smile. 

"And with any luck," she replied with an equally pleased smile, "tonight will be the beginning of the end of the short-term goal." For the last five months, she and Pete had been ransacking mostly deserted Hydra bases on the pretense of exposing more of the members. She, with her unnatural speed and agility, would breach the bases and eliminate any threat with the little training she received in recent years. Pete, with his uncanny skills at a computer, would then infiltrate their system to unearth any useful information to share with the world. They made quite the pair, if she did say so herself. 

They returned to their rented apartment a few hours later, packed away what they would need for the journey, and set off like nothing was amiss late in the afternoon. It was a stroke of luck when Aislynn had been searching for places to stay temporarily, ones that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg, that the charming little apartment had popped up ready to rent. It had given them exactly what they needed in terms of location, as they could easily be lost in the Paris crowds, and just enough room that they wouldn't be on top of each other day in and day out. Pete was cute and all, but Aislynn just was not in the frame of mind for that kind of relationship. Besides, he was Pete and her brother in all forms but blood. Gross. They played tourists like pros, using it to their advantage for their recon work. It was amazing how much was overlooked when she or Pete offered stilted French apologies and quick explanations that they were Americans. Pete repeatedly claimed they were just that damn good, while Aislynn secretly figured it was pure dumb luck they hadn't been caught.

Again they made quick work of entering the base, which was located in the heart of Ballons des Vosges Natural Regional Park. It was hidden by the surrounding trees, but from the entrance Aislynn could see Lac de Kruth-Wildenstein shimmer in the moonlight. If she shifted her stance just enough, she would be able to make out the lights of a restaurant as well. It was a beautiful sight, nonetheless. She smiled sadly and rested her back against one of the trees, her mind drifting while she waited for Pete to finish inside. It wasn't a bad idea, her plan to settle down in France when all was said and done. It was such a gorgeous country, rich in history and culture. She could picture herself settling in a tiny cottage, surrounded by trees or fields. It would be a lovely place to grow old.

Because her mind strayed from the job at hand, it had taken several minutes for her to realize she wasn't alone in the woods. It began as a tingle on the bare skin at the back of her neck, making the tiny ash blonde hairs stand in awareness. From there it spread like a rash throughout the rest of her body. Outwardly she made no move to let on she knew someone was there. Inwardly she was freaking the hell out. Never before had they been spotted and she didn't know what to do. They didn't have a plan for the possibility, other than to vacate the area immediately. 

She glanced at her watch then peeked over her shoulder at the entrance to the base, playing it cool.  _Chill, so chill_. Pete should have been finished by now. It was unlikely anyone had snuck up on him while inside, as she incapacitated everyone who breathed within minutes of stepping inside. But what could have held him up so long? Frowning thoughtfully, she eased back over to the entrance and hazarded a glimpse inside, borrowed rifle lifted and ready for trouble. In the dim light she could see her friend, decked head to toe in black, jogging down the hall toward her. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered her gun, stepping into the open. "Took you long enough," she hissed when he joined her. 

They closed the door, re-engaged the locks, and replaced the cloaking device that hid the entrance to the base. "They upped the security on the systems," he explained, following her up the hill. Their car was parked on the other side, tucked behind some larger trees out of sight of the main road. "It took longer than expected to hack it. But I got what we needed and when we get back, I'll handle the rest. You've already got our next location, right?"

She nodded. "We will be off to Denmark in less than a week," she confirmed, dropping her rifle into the trunk of the car. "I'll be getting our papers in the morning and we will have a house waiting." She tossed Pete his street clothes from within the shared duffle and removed her own. While she stripped from what she called her burglar clothes, she continued to feel that tingle on her spine that said she was being watched. It made no sense, what with them now being unarmed and mostly undressed, yet not being attacked. She took a conscientious glance at the thick patch of trees they had walked though, on the off chance she did see someone watching and waiting. 

"Let's get out of here," Pete said, shoving his jeans and jacket into the trunk. "This place is starting to give me the creeps. Are you  _sure_  you want to settle in France? Spirits are everywhere."

"Are you being superstitious right now?" she questioned with a smirk, shooting him a teasing wink. "I'm supposed to be the paranoid one." Which was the only reason she wasn't going to say anything about what she was feeling. She lived most of her life looking over her shoulder, always so certain someone was right around the corner and prepared to finish what her father had started. It could just be her imagination playing tricks on her. Sooner or later they would be found out, right?  _Jumping at ghosts._

Pete pointed at her over the roof of their car, feigning outrage at her accusation. "I'll have you know," he said firmly, "I come from a long line of shamans. I am not afraid to set some evil spirits on your ass for mocking me."

She scoffed and pulled her short hair from inside her shirt then tugged on her sweater. Though they were nearly invisible, Aislynn would swear she could see the needle marks dotting her skin; to keep herself calm and collected over the years, she wore thin but long-sleeved tops to cover the scars. "Like you would dare to get some bad juju," she mumbled, her ear twitching at the sound of something breaking behind her. She didn't react, even though she knew now she hadn't been imagining things. Someone  _actually_ _was_ following her.  _Don't freak out. Don't freak out._  "Even if you do try, I can always learn some spirit summoning of my own and toss it right back at you. But I'll take pity on you and agree it's time to go, before someone finds us out here. It'll be difficult to explain away the hardware we are hiding."

He hissed a grateful,  _yes_ , under his breath and slid into the driver's seat. She opened the passenger door and glanced over her shoulder at the direction the snapping sound had come from. It took but a moment, yet she could easily see an outline of someone's body just poking out from behind a tree at the top of the hill. She knew the instant the person caught on; that body shifted ever so slightly behind the tree, exposing just a bit more of their body. Her breath lodged in her throat: whoever it was, was jacked. If the one arm and portion of outlined thigh was anything to go by, anyway. 

"Lenny," Pete whined from within the car, "let's go! We are going to be getting back just before dawn as it is. Let's not make it after the sun comes up."

"Right," she breathed out, still staring at the body at the top of the hill. For some reason, she couldn't turn away. It wasn't like she could see much, but what she did see was undeniably male. What was this man doing following her? And why couldn't she just get into the car and get as far away from him as possible? Something about the way he stood there, encased in shadows as though he was part of them, had her on edge. She just couldn't decide if that edge had to do with her physical wellbeing or her emotional state. Mental wasn't part of the equation, as she doubted anyone could do more damage than her own father inflicted. 

Pete kept saying her name and began to resort to throwing scraps of paper at her midsection. "Knock it off," she grumbled, taking her eyes off the man long enough to throw a balled paper back at Pete. When she looked up, the man was long gone. She frowned dismally and her eyes darted fervently across the area he had been standing, finding nothing that didn't belong. What the hell? Where did he go?  _Why do I care? He's gone! And I'm still alive! Time to go!_  Shaking her head get it back on straight, she slid into the passenger seat and motioned for Pete to drive. 

It was, in fact, dawn when they returned to their little apartment. She had dozed off on the ride back, so she told Pete to clean up first so he could sleep. Finding herself unable to do the same, even after her own shower, Aislynn decided to take that time to wander the city. She had a tattered messenger bag slung over her shoulder and a camera dangling from her neck. Her computer was already loaded down with photos of the places she had been over the last several months, yet that didn't stop her from spending hours loading the camera's memory with tasteful photos of the local life. With any luck, she would be able to sell a few of the photos to fund the next leg of their journey without worrying either of them would need to get a day job just to eat. It was how they lived so far, so she was certain it would continue to be the bread and butter of their adventure.

Nearly three hours into her little tourist trip, Aislynn felt it again. The tingle on her neck that set the little hairs at attention. She wanted so badly to turn around, to openly find the man she knew had tracked her into the city. The only thing stopping her was the instinct telling her that doing so would send him running for the hills. Keeping it in mind, she continued on her journey, pausing now and then to snap a new photo. She had to think of a way to draw him in. She needed to know why he was stalking her, seeing as it was a tad bit creepy and entirely unnerving to have such a huge man trail her from a national forest to a city then shadow her all day long across said city. 

She spotted her chance an hour later. Across the boulevard from where she stood was a cemetery. True, it upped that creepy level to downright sinister, but it would give her the chance to lure her secret escort into some form of privacy so that she could resolve what was going on. At the entrance, she paused and turned her head left then right, blatantly searching the sidewalks. Only one person reacted, a tall man having ducked behind the edge of a building and out of her sight. She chuckled to herself and stepped into the cemetery, completely positive he would join her soon enough. 

What she had not expected, however, was to be jerked out of sight and in between two gigantic crypts. Nor had she anticipated being hauled against the side of one crypt with a knife pressing into her throat. Her eyes were round as saucers; she didn't dare to even breathe for fear of slicing her own neck open on the blade.  _Don't panic, don't panic_ , she told herself, lifting her hands to signal she was unarmed and relatively harmless in comparison to himself. 

He snarled something in a language she couldn't even begin to understand, which only made her frown. "Uh," she hummed then tried to put some space between her skin and the sharp metal that could filet her without him breaking a sweat. "I don... I don't know what you just said, but I'm friendly. Mostly. Please don't kill me." Why did she add that last bit? Because it could be considered rude and send him over the edge and then where would she be? Spending eternity in a Paris cemetery as a ghost with unfinished business, that's where!

The man took a moment to examine the truth in her statements. It was her chance use the time to study his facial features. You know, in case she had to describe a possible serial killer bent on adding her and Pete to his bone collection or whatever. It could happen. He had shaggy, jaw-length brown hair; not a light brown like hers had been, but a rich, dark chocolate that reflected various lighter colors in the sunlight, looking far too warm and inviting for a man with a knife against her throat. Two thick eyebrows, same shade as his hair, sat above a pair of eyes that just...  _Whoa, there. Calm your tits._  Warmth flooded her face, matching the heat rising in her lower body; the blue of his eyes was so pure, so rich that it felt like she was drowning in the water at Navagio Beach. (It had been a day trip about four months ago; never had she seen such crystal-clear water in her life. The pictures of that trip still took her breath away, which only figured would happen when staring into a pair of carbon copies within a human body.)

His nose had the slightest bend, barely noticeable to anyone not six inches away. It was actually kind of cute in a rugged,  _please don't kill me because I want to know what happened to your nose first_  kind of way. A thick scruff of dark hair covered his face from defined cheekbone to chiseled jaw, two matching patches missing on the hallows of his cheeks. She was always partial to furry men; it would just her luck the man considering killing her would have such wonderfully manicured facial hair. It was like someone was out to ensure she was going to die before her time was really up, seeing as it was possible she would beg him to do it just to save her from herself. 

At the last second, she stopped herself from looking at his mouth. She didn't have a death wish and going by the rest of him, his mouth would have been the end of her. "Can you at least tell me why you're following me?" asked Aislynn cautiously, pointedly keeping her eyes above his nose. And eyes. Yeah, can't look at those too long.  _I need to get laid more often. This wouldn't happen if I got laid._

His brows creased in the middle, though not in a way that suggested she would be walking away from their confrontation. "Who sent you?" the man shot back, that snarl still there but in English. She frowned in return. It wasn't his question that had her curious, although it did give her pause. No, her curiosity was aroused by his flawless accent. Despite biting his earlier words at her in a foreign language, sounding so natural she was half worried she caught the attention of a rival organization bent on keeping Hydra alive and well, the English coming out of his mouth  _had been_   _natural_. As in, she would bet her life he had been born and raised in America, like herself. 

"Nobody sent me," she replied finally, once again trying to gain space from the knife at her throat. It would do her well to remember that one flick of his wrist and she was good as dead. Which reminded her... "Why would someone send me anyway? Who are you?"

He didn't bother to answer her question, instead spouting off another of his own. "If you're not following me, why do you keep showing up where I am going?" He pressed his forearm against her upper chest when he noticed her attempts at wiggling away and bared his teeth at her. "I know who you are," he confessed in a low tone, leaning menacingly closer. "Tell the truth."

He... what? She met his furious glare head on. "If you know who I am," she murmured, not daring to second guess him, "then you know I am not the enemy. I would  _never_  help them, unless it was into an early grave." That seemed to startle him. But it only lasted a second. From one blink to the next, he dropped the knife from her throat in favor of wrapping his left hand around it, a soft  _whir_ ring sound filling the space between them in the process.  _Shit, shit, shit!_  "I have the sudden feeling we are talking about two extremely different people," she breathed, forgoing holding her hands out in effort to pry his icy grip from her neck. Only it wasn't going anywhere.  _Why wasn't it going anywhere?!_

"Tell me what you know," he hissed, squeezing threateningly at her neck. 

_What do I know_? "I know I can't answer you if I can't breathe," she gasped out, wheezing around that vise-like grip. She didn't really want to hurt the man, but if he kept it up, she wouldn't have a choice. He would force her hand and any possibly alliance between them would be ruined forever. "I don't want to hurt you," she pleaded when her vision began to spot, feeling that ever present burn beneath her skin, that telltale sign things were about to go from bad to worse. "You have to let me go.  _Please_. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just let go."

He frowned again then glanced down at her neck, at her hands around his wrist. He must have noticed the change in her skin tone, that unnatural electric blue color skimming below her skin, because he loosened his grip on her throat and took a step back, moving as far as the cramped space would allow. She sucked in great gulps of air, shocked to find herself lightheaded. She hadn't even realized how tight he had been holding onto her, her weak knees nearly buckling beneath the weight of her own body. "That's one killer grip you got there," she mumbled, rubbing at her sore throat and using the stone wall behind her to keep her upright. "What did they do to you?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What makes you think anyone did anything to me?"

"You're not serious." Apparently he was, because she had to point from his knife to her throat with a look that said he had lost his mind if he thought she couldn't put two and two together. "Someone did something." Telegraphing her movements, she pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to reveal her forearms, displaying the scars given to her by her own father's command. "They tried with me too. Nobody sent me anywhere. I'm finally free to do what I want, and what I want is to bring them down. Jail or grave, doesn't matter to me." 

He stared at her arms, eyes focused on the nearly invisible lines and dots marring her once flawless skin. She knew he could see it. He wasn't wholly human, same as her. "So?" Aislynn nodded to him. "Are you still going to kill me or can I live to see the season finale of Grey's Anatomy?"

Confusion was a cute look for him, she had to admit. "Grey what? Never mind," he cut in before she could explain. "I don't want to know." He stared at her hard for several silent minutes then pointed the end of his knife at her, though he made no move to touch her again. "I remember you."

_Wait, what?_ "Wait, what?" Was there an echo?

His head bobbed, confirming she heard him right. "Vaguely, but it's there. I walked past your cell a few times, I think."

"You think?"

"Your hair was darker then, but it was you."

She scowled, the confusion hers now. "How do I not remember this?" He shrugged then finally put away the knife. She thought back to her time as a Hydra experiment-slash-prisoner. There wasn't a single memory of this man anywhere in the nightmarish moments, and she was sure she would have remembered that face had she seen it. The only explanation for her memory blanks were that she had been unconscious, either by drugs or by force. Her money was on the former, as even her guards were wary of getting to close for fear of dying painfully. It was why she had spent over a decade in a solitary cell. If she was heavily dosed with a tranquilizer, they could have had a parade of elephants dance  _over_  her and she never would have known.  _Then again, I would have been dead, right? Elephants are huge..._  "Doesn't matter. Who did you mean when you asked if I was sent by someone? Because I don't think you would choke out anyone determined to wipe  _them_  off the planet, am I right or am I right?"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he repeated, though he did look marginally relieved by whatever was going on in his head. His stare drifted away from her to focus on the crypt at her back.  _Maybe_. To her eyes, whatever he was seeing was entirely in his head, because he had a faraway look about him. Aislynn waited patiently, a tad concerned for his wellbeing, for him to return to the present. The wait only served to endear him to her heart; whatever had been done to him, for however long it had gone on, must have been truly awful. 

He blinked slowly for a few minutes before returning to reality and swallowed harshly, shaking his head as if to rid himself of a pest. His eyes were haunted when he caught her gaze, resulting in her chest squeezing painfully. "What's your name?" she asked suddenly. "I'm Aislynn, but my friends call me Lynn. Or Lenny. Though I am carrying around a passport that says my name is Claire Fontaine. It's all very confusing, if you really think about it."

His head tilted to the side in question. "Barnes," he said quietly. "I think."

What did they do to this man that he didn't even remember his own name? "You think?"

"It's what I'm going by right now," he clarified, though it only served to puzzle her more. "For a while I was only Asset. Someone... someone once said my name was Barnes, so I decided to try it out."

Must have been a surname, she decided, because nobody would give their child the first name of Barnes. She smiled kindly at him. "Say, are you hungry? I think I saw a bistro a block down from here and I feel like my stomach in eating a hole right through me. You're more than welcome to hang out with me for a while. I've got nothing better to do until my friend wakes up, then I'll be stuck driving a while."

"Denmark," he murmured, clearly remembering what she had said the night before. She nodded, her smile shifting into cajoling grin. He stared at her a moment longer then heaved a sigh, as though she was twisting his arm just by smiling at him. "I'll go."

"Great!" She pulled her sleeves back down to her wrists and adjusted her messenger bag. "I always enjoy eating a meal with someone. Makes the food taste that much better, I think." 

Barnes didn't speak much as they walked together to the tiny restaurant she had mentioned, nor did he have much to say while they ate. But she was okay with that, far more inclined to fill the silence with tidbits of information from the places she had been the last few months. He listened politely, even pointed out when she had gotten a fact wrong. She merely grinned and tapped her nose in acknowledgement of his corrections. "I'd apologize for talking so much," she said as they exited the restaurant, "but that would be a lie. Pete complains I talk too much sometimes."

"Do you like hearing the sound of your voice?" 

Aislynn gaped at him in shock. "Was that... you teasing me? Who'da thought you had a funny side," she murmured with a smirk when he shot her a wink. God, he was sexy when he did that. "And yes, I think my voice is amazing and find it enjoyable to share it with the world." 

They continued the return walk back to her district, though it took just as long with her stopping to take pictures of the sunlight filtering through tree leaves or reflecting off the river Seine. There was also a high probability she had a picture or two of Barnes on her camera with his back to her. She wasn't going to kid herself into thinking he didn't know about them; he ran twelve steps ahead of everyone, it appeared. He had eyes everywhere, including the back of his head. She appreciated his silent acquiesce to her endeavors and promised just as silently to be the only eyes to ever look at them.

A block from the building she was staying in with Pete, Aislynn drew to a stop. "I'm just down there," she said, pointing around the corner. "This is where I leave you be. If Pete sees me talking to you, he will hound me until I give him some kind of answer and I don't think he would enjoy hearing that you held a knife to my throat." She meant for it to be teasing, but he went still as a statue. It took her only a heartbeat to realize where she messed up. "Oh! No! I don't mean I would actually say anything like that. He just likes to think of himself as my protective little brother and pester me into oblivion. I wouldn't tell anyone we met."

"How would I know that?" Barnes asked, eyes darting around the street, his body tensed as if ready to bolt.

She shrugged and said, "You don't." Biting her lip, she hesitated briefly before digging in her bag for a notebook. "Before you disappear." She flipped through the pages and tore a scrap from the edge of a sheet, scribbling her numbers across the front then back. "If you ever, you know, want to talk or whatever. Even though I never stop, I'm still a good listener. Or you can text me. Whichever. If you want." 

His blue eyes flicked between her face and the paper before taking it from her fingers. 

He didn't go on like,  _Oh_ _yeah, I'll call you_. She would have been surprised if he did, to be honest. "It was nice to meet you, Barnes," she murmured. "Be careful out there. And if you ever need anything, I'll just be a call away." They parted ways at the corner and Aislynn risked looking back when she reached the apartment building, not all that sure what she was supposed to be looking for. She knew he wouldn't be there, was probably halfway across the city by then. It didn't stop her from feeling sad that he was already out of sight and didn't even say goodbye. 

Night had fallen by the time Pete woke. During those few hours, she had emptied the storage on her camera, shuffled the photos into special folders on her laptop, and hidden the pictures of Barnes so deep into her hard drive even Pete would have a grand time locating them. (She was very proud of herself for that accomplishment, by the way. Pete's teaching had finally paid off.) She was just putting the final touches on her article about Paris cemeteries when her friend poked his head into the room. "Hey, sleepy head," she muttered, saving the document to send later. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," he replied with a yawn. "Did you finish your work?"

Aislynn nodded. "Just need to add in the photos and I can send it in," she confirmed. She was honestly surprised how much she was paid for her little tourist blog to be shared with larger social media sites. Not that she would ever complain; it was an absolutely perfect way to supplement her income back home. While on her little revenge quest, it was enough to pay for their meals while Pete did... whatever it was to be paid. She never asked; for all she knew, he was offering to hack the computers of sleazy cheaters. Or he played the stocks. He had so many varied interests that she couldn't keep up most days.

He flopped across her bed to click through her photo options, giving his opinion on which ones she should use for her blog and which she should sell the rights to. "I'm hungry," he announced minutes later. "When you are done, let's go hit up that place you found a couple days ago."

The place being a sandwich shop a few blocks away. She readily agreed to his suggestion and made quick work of finishing her task. "Oh, the documents came in while you were sleeping. It's on the table," she called through her open bedroom door. He said something back to her, though she barely made out the words, and she clicked the button to post her article. A quick check to see that it was all setup correctly and she was hopping into her shoes to meet Pete at the front door.

Dinner was quiet but fun nonetheless. They sat in the corner nibbling away on their sandwiches and watching the people mingle outside the window in the sunset. When Pete asked about her trip to the cemetery and why she would go in the first place, Aislynn admitted she had lost track of where she was going when she spotted the tombs and just had to check it out. She also stuck to her word and left out any mention of Barnes, still confused on how she would even begin to explain his existence at all to her friend in the first place.

Afterward she and Pete decide to treat themselves to a movie for a job well done. Aislynn tried  _super_  hard to not sigh every few minutes watching Dracula Untold, but it was impossible not to swoon just a bit when Luke Evans made it so easy. Pete teased her for her antics, though she was quick to point out he also sighed a few times right along with her. "Well, his hair was fantastic," her friend attempted.

"Right," she snorted. "Had nothing to do with his face at all. Strictly his hair." She patted his back and turned toward their apartment. 

He followed, saying, "I'm jealous of his hair. You've seen my attempts to grow my own out. It never works."

"That's because you are impatient and refuse to properly care for your hair," she reminded him, passing a line of adults waiting to get inside a night club. "If you made the effort, your hair would look better than his ever could."

"Doubt that," he replied distractedly. "Hey, wanna dance?"

"Not with girls in mini-skirts," she answered with a smile. Typical Pete, eyeballing anything attractive with a pulse. "Go on. I'm going to do some work and hit the hay. Have fun. Call me if you need me." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his short hair before nudging him into line. Almost instantly he fell into conversation with several locals in line, his French so smooth it was almost as if he were born to it. She chuckled and continued home, already envisioning a long hot bath before curling up in bed with her laptop and notebook.  _Perfect idea._

Perfect idea... that was shot to shit thirty seconds after stepping into the apartment and locking the door. 

She put away her keys and hung her coat on a hook by the door, humming under her breath a song she heard on the way home from the theater. It was new and catchy, the singer vaguely familiar. It did, however, put a certain someone in mind and left her smiling as she walked through the dark apartment to her bedroom. " _Say you'll see me again_ ," she murmured under her breath, tapping the words into her phone to save for later Googling.    


"You have a nice voice." Aislynn leapt in the air with a shriek and spun to face the person speaking to her. The intruder was swift to smack a heavy hand over her mouth and trap her against the wall. Her first reaction was to defend by any means necessary, and she lifted her hands to do just that. "Calm down," the intruder hissed, his deep voice eerily familiar. "It's just me." With her palms inches from the hand on her mouth, Aislynn focused her eyes directly on the face in front of her and registered Barnes almost instantly. Lucky for him that his hand muffled her angry curses, because she had nothing nice to say to his  _breaking_   _into her apartment_ and scaring the living shit out of her. "Are you finished?"

She glared at him and licked his palm in retaliation. His nose crinkled in distaste but he did remove his hand from her mouth and took a step back. "You could have knocked," she snipped, reaching over to smack the bedroom light on. "It's what normal people do. Christ on a cracker, my heart is in my throat. Are you happy, you jerk?"

He had the good sense to look appropriately chastised when she turned her attention back to him. His eyes were on the floor, shoulders hunched defensively, hands shoved into his coat pockets. The longer she watched him, though, the guiltier she felt for snapping at him. Yes, he snuck up on her and terrified her, but his reaction to her words was not typical of someone getting bitched at. No, he was the one to be terrified now. 

She thought back to their earlier meeting and how his first reaction had been to hold a knife to her throat while demanding answers to questions she didn't know. She remembered his deflection when she asked what happened to him. Remembered the peculiar difference between his hands, one with the slight give of a normal hand while the other was much cooler, harder. His flawless ability to speak more than one language.  _What_ did  _they do to him?_  she wondered yet again.

Slowly, so she didn't frighten him further, Aislynn reached out to touch his forearm. "Hey," she murmured softly. "It's alright. You just scared me, is all. I wasn't expecting company." He didn't reaction to her words more than flicking his blue gaze to her face then back to the floor. "Why don't we have a seat and you can tell me why you came over. How's that?" She motioned to the bed, the only surface in her room aside from the floor to sit, and sat on the edge, waiting for him to do the same.

Her bedroom was tiny and scarcely decorated, with only her bed, laptop, and camera taking up space. Even her little lamp was hanging from the wall so she wouldn't have to use the overhead light at night for reading or research. The bed was tucked into the corner, the head snuggly tucked under the single window and littered with small decorative pillows. At the foot were several cozy throw blankets, for those nights she didn't want to lay beneath the large comforter but wanted to be warm while she read. 

Eventually he shuffled to the edge of the bed and sat arm's length away from her, turned slightly in her direction. "I didn't mean to scare you," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"I know," she assured him then smiled kindly. "Next time you want to hang out, just knock. You're more than welcome to hang out with me, whenever you want. Or call that number I gave you. Any time. I always answer." He nodded his understanding and relaxed a few degrees, easing further onto the bed and sinking into the plush padding. He frowned at the bed beneath him and shifted again, bouncing ever so slightly. It left a ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared in a blink and he was back to his usual self. Usual self being scowly and eyeing the lightbulb above them as though it were planning their deaths. She was quick to divert his attention by turning off that light and clicking on the lamp. "So, what did you need?"

"Denmark," he said. "Your next destination." Aislynn nodded. "Don't go. My contacts say they are gathering their people and a raid will be going down in a few days. It'll be both a waste of your time and could end with you caught in the middle."

She gaped at him for a few seconds. While she was beyond thankful they had moved on from him wanting to carve her like a fish and thinking she was Team Bad Guy, she was slightly concerned that he would stick his neck out just hours later so she could avoid being arrested or killed by either side of the fence. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "I'm not sure how I'm going to explain the change in plans to Pete but thank you for the warning. I don't know what I would do if something happened to him." Truthfully, she was less concerned for her own safety, as she had a powerful way to keep herself safe when faced with imminent danger. Pete was practically a sitting duck.

Barnes stared at her unflinchingly, a mix of annoyance and curiosity swirling in those beautiful blue eyes. "He is important to you," he commented a moment later, an underlying bite to his statement. 

Aislynn wasn't sure how to take his tone. Should she be wary? Or should she just chalk it up to his social deficiency? It was clear he didn't fully comprehend how social conduct worked, so perhaps personal relationships fell under the same umbrella of things he didn't understand. "Yes, he is," she agreed, adding, "He's like my kid brother. We met when he was seventeen. Been taking care of him ever since."

His stare flicked to the wall, and she knew he was not observing the dried paint. No, his face slackened microscopically and his eyes clouded over with whatever memory he was reliving. "I had someone like that," he mumbled absently, "I think." She watched, nosy, as a million emotions played across his sharp features. Everything from joy to heartache to pain, all in a nanosecond before he shut it down under lock and key. "He... he was different then. He didn't need me anymore. Later. I think."

Impulsively she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, offering him comfort. "I'm sure he still needed you," she murmured, regaining his attention. Then she smiled teasingly. "Aside from trying to kill me twice, you seem nice enough. And you did go out of your way to let me know what was going to happen in Denmark, when I'm just a stranger. If your friend for you was like Pete for me, he would always need you."

"How do you know?"

She shrugged. "Gut feeling," she answered. "You seem like the kind of guy anyone can count on, hard spot or not." He let the words sink in, though he didn't appear wholly convinced. "Hey, I have an idea." To take his mind off whatever was causing him discomfort, she snagged her laptop from beneath the pillows and opened it up. "Watch a movie with me. Pete won't be back for hours. Possibly not until morning, if he finds someone to follow home."

"A movie?" Barnes looked anything but down for watching a commercial, much less an entire movie.

"Yes." She smiled and searched for a cute cartoon, nothing too lighthearted but not so heavy that it would backfire on her. "How about Shaun the Sheep? It's about mischievous sheep. No real dialouge to keep up with. Just weird farm animals."

Barnes sat through the film with her, intently focused on the laptop screen. Now and then she would catch his lips curve at the corner in amusement, though he had no outburst of laughter like Aislynn.  _Next time, maybe._  For now she was content in knowing she redirected his negative emotions so that he wouldn't fall down his rabbit hole.  _Been there, done that, burned the shirt_. It was in her very nature to soothe others, as she had moments where she felt their pain so acutely it could be her own. Self-preservation was A Thing in her life, as other's unhappiness caused her stress and her stress caused things to explode. No, it was safer for all parties if she was able to avert disaster.

For the next few nights Barnes would quietly sneak into her room while Pete slept, just to watch silly cartoons with her. He never laughed aloud, but she could see it in his eyes when he truly enjoyed a show. They would shine brighter than the sky at high noon on a cloudless day, sucking her right in. She was a sucker for nice eyes. 

And hair. 

And beard.

And body.

Fine, fine. She was a sucker for men like Barnes, who was far more than a pretty face. He was quick witted, intelligent as all get out, and a pro at planning. Seriously, she didn't know how he managed it or when he slept, but by the end of the week, on the day she and Pete were meant to leave their little apartment for Denmark, Barnes had produced them a new target far, far away from their former destination all the way down in Greece.  _I have been craving baklava lately._  Where better to feed her craving than its home?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Drama, Greece

November 2014

Aislynn should have known what would happen in a place called Drama. It had nothing to do with Pete meeting Barnes. While that did  _not_  go over very well, it truly had been the least of her problems. It didn't even have to do with being unable to communicate with the locals without a dictionary in hand. Even having a pipe burst over her bed in the middle of the night paled in comparison to the center-stage shitshow that had taken place two weeks into their detour.

No, the drama in Drama focused solely on herself and Barnes butting heads at every turn over the task at hand. Before they had departed France, Barnes had laid the groundwork for their excursion by locating their target and selecting their home base for the duration of their stay. She was fine with that, really she was. He saved their asses by warning her off Denmark while also giving her a new sight to focus on. 

What she did not appreciate, however, was his criticism of her technique. Yes, admittedly she seriously lacked the fighting skills required to take on a small army. But anything more than twelve agents was too large a fish to fry, in her opinion. They were the ones she and Pete ratted out to the world, allowing the big guns to go from there while she and Pete were safely tucked far away. She liked it that way; it gave her the chance to play dumb if anyone ever asked, "Oh hey, weren't you in such in such place during that big government take down of that one thing?" Nope, not this chick. She was in a different country during that time. So sorry.

But Barnes was adamant she could handle far more than she chose to pick up. So. Very. Adamant. 

Within days of arriving, he had asked if she would mind showing him what she could do in terms of fighting. Stupidly she had agreed and they had snuck away in the dead of night to spar. In ended with her laying on her back in prickly grass, panting like she had lost a lung and her entire body aching. The man moved like a bullet, by far faster than she could readily keep up with. Even with using the one hand to fight her off, he trounced her repeatedly in the hour they hid in the woods. 

In the dark, she could just make out the disappointed scowl on his pretty face as he glared down at her prone body. "You cannot tell me that was all you have," he stated, balled hands on his narrow hips, thick thighs splayed and stretching the light denim he had chosen to wear. "Did you receive zero training with them?"

She didn't need to ask who "them" was. And his shock at their different treatments was blatant in his tone. "The guards were more afraid of dying than putting me to work," she said between deep gulps of air,  _her_  tone full of irritation. Where did he get off telling her she wasn't good enough? She got by just fine, dammit! His input was  _not_  required. "What's it matter anyway? Not like I'll be dealing with more than a handful of goons at a time."

His full lips pursed with disapproval and she pushed herself to her feet, dusting the leaves and grass from her clothes. It didn't escape her notice he wasn't winded, not even slightly glistening with sweat. Hell, even his sweat shirt was in pristine condition. "You haven't yet," he corrected her sternly. "It is only a matter of time before you are taken by surprise and are unable to fighting your way out without help."

"Pretty sure that's what Pete is for," she muttered, mimicking his stance. "I never hit a large base. Ever. I know where my skills stop and they stop when I'm faced with more than a basketball team of men with guns. My only goal is to get Pete to wherever their data is stored so he can do his magic. If I happen to take out some guys along the way, excellent. Wonderful. A few less monsters to worry about roaming the streets. And who says I couldn't take out a small army? Just because  _you_  haven't seen my ace in the hole, doesn't mean I don't have one at all."

Why was she defending herself to this guy anyway? It wasn't all that long ago she had infiltrated  _his_  target ahead of him, rather successfully at that. She got by just fine, thank you very much, and his approval wasn't needed.

His frown deepened, the disapproval melting into confusion. She could see he did not understand her disinterest in wanting to take out as many Hydra dicks as possible. While she thoroughly enjoyed dispatching the ones she did cross paths with, it wasn't her ultimate goal. She wanted them dug out like the suffocating weeds they were and disposed of accordingly. She was not her father.

A few nights later, while in the middle of planning their route to and from their target, he brought up the subject of her fighting expertise again. "What if I taught you something else?" he asked, reaching for his soda cup that sat on the floor at the side of her bed. "It couldn't hurt to know more. You never know when they may change their protocols in light of recent events."

_Jesus Christ on a stick._ "No."

His sigh was as heavy as her mattress. "You know they are pooling their resources," he tried, glancing at her from behind the curtain of his long hair. "The more sites you hit, the more guarded the others will become. Eventually they will trap you and-"

"I said no!" she fairly yelled, her frustration with his constant need to assess the way she chose to deal with Hydra bubbling over. 

And that was how Pete had met Barnes, when he burst into the room moments later expecting to find... whatever he was worried enough to heave a large lamp over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

Barnes did not take his sudden intrusion very well. Not if the gun aimed center mass had anything to say about it. 

Aislynn quickly jumped between them, hands spread to calm the tension. "Hey, hey," she said soothing, looking between Barnes and Pete. Pete appeared thirty seconds from pissing his pajama pants. Barnes... decidedly not the same. "Easy, guys. Relax." The lamp shifted slowly from over Pete's shoulder to cover his chest, a flimsy barrier for a speeding bullet. She turned her attention to Barnes, knowing Pete wouldn't move an inch until that gun was lowered. "It's alright," she murmured, pulling his focus from her friend. "He only thought I was in trouble, because I yelled at you. He isn't going to hurt anyone. He grabbed a lamp, of all things." She ignored his indignant squawk behind her. "Please, put the gun down."

After what felt like an eternity, Barnes lowered his weapon to his side. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Pete, knowing Barnes wasn't going to shoot anyone tonight. She didn't know him very long, but he didn't seem the trigger-happy type. Pushy and annoying, yes. Ruthless, no. "Alright," she said to Pete, reaching for the lamp he had in a death grip. Poor kid, he had no clue that lamp wouldn't have done a thing against someone like Barnes. "There we go. I'll just sit this down here. Take a breath, let it out slow. That's a good kid. Come on, have a seat. Meet my friend."

Disaster avoided, Aislynn watched as Pete burst from his terror shell and instantly befriend Barnes, once he realized exactly why she had been yelling in the first place. The traitor even sided with that man! In the end, she kicked them both out of her room in favor of preserving her blood pressure. 

The problem with Aislynn's hard-headed denial, however, was that Barnes was right. He was so very right to suggest she learn new techniques and train in a proper setting. Her lack of knowledge almost cost her Pete. 

Everything had been going according to plan, from infiltration to depositing Pete in the relative safety of the data servers. He had immediately gone to work hacking the system while ransacking the file cabinets off to the side of the room, leaving her and Barnes to pick off whatever agents happened to get too close to their location. They split at the end of the hall, being sure to keep their paths to Pete clear for when it came time to leave the building. Aislynn took her time winding through the maze-like halls, storing her energy for when it came time to hike the near five miles back to the car. 

The only people she encountered in the first fifteen minutes were two agents sleeping peacefully in their bunks. They were both dispatched promptly and silently, hog-tied and gagged in the furthest corner of the room out of sight. Upon exiting the room, she continued her track away from Pete and Barnes, keeping low to the floor and gliding on her toes with each step. Two hallways away from the bunks she encountered six more agents, all armed to the teeth and tensely awaiting her arrival. She spun away just in time to miss the headshot that left a considerably sized hole in the wall across from her.

Yanking free the handgun from the holster at her back, she ran back the direction she come, diving behind cover as the group of agents turned the corner. Mentally cursing her luck, and almost wishing she had taken Barnes up on his offer to teach her, she aimed blindly around her cover and pulled the trigger. Someone screamed and she heard the thump of a body landing hard on the floor, allowing her to assume she landed a decent hit. 

While the firefight waged on, she ran over all the information they had gathered on both the base and the ones in charge of keeping it hidden. Something was off on their calculations: If one counted the three night-duty guards outside the compound with the two she had knocked out in their bunks, there should have only been another ten men, tops, calling the place home. She was faced with six of those ten, shot at least two of them to the point they were useless to their team. But why would they leave another four off elsewhere, when they were clearly prepared for her arrival? Had they found Barnes, who wouldn't even have to blink before relieving them of oxygen? 

Running low on ammo, she left the safety of cover while the agents took their time to reload their guns.  _Maybe I shouldn't be so worried?_  She was a rather quick runner, not as fast as Barnes she knew, but she wasn't much slower. She could hear the men chasing her yell back and forth, though she couldn't exactly understand what they were saying; it didn't matter, to be frank. She still had a group of men with fully loaded weapons and was nearly empty for her own weapon. She needed to fin-

"Down." She slid around a corner and nearly bounced off Barnes' chest, gasping in surprise. He gripped her shoulder, shoved her behind him and down to the floor, and unloaded everything he had in those numerous guns on the men who followed her. She watched, utterly fascinated, as he pulled weapon after weapon from his gear. Where did he hide half of them? Metal sparkled in the florescent lights before it was flung down the hall to embed in the chest of an agent. 

When silence followed his deadly throw, she hazarded a glance around his legs and gaped at the carnage greeting her eyes. "How di-" Barnes didn't allow her the time to finish her question; he yanked her to her feet, shoved a wicked looking Skorpion into her hands, and lead the way back to Pete. Right. Time to go. She could play twenty questions later. 

While they walked, he filled her in on what he encountered after they split, his voice slightly muffled behind the ski mask he wore. The base was larger than they researched, with more guards and guns than any other base she penetrated. They had been close on the number of armed men, though. No more than a dozen total. The issue was one man remained missing. 

"Maybe he isn't here," she said quietly, turning that last corner back to Pete. "We didn't account for unexpected emergencies off base." Even as she spoke, she knew it was a load of shit. Hydra did not "do" unexpected. It was wishful thinking on her part in effort to explain why neither she nor Barnes encountered that final man. Thankfully, however, Barnes allowed her to live in her fantasy world a while longer. 

He left her at the doorway of the server room, keeping lookout while she retrieved Pete. Mimicking his alertness, she eased down the edge of the server towers, eyes peeled for the sight of that missing man. She didn't think he would have found Pete in such a short amount of time, yet in the back of her mind she knew they had been extremely predictable in the way they handled their past jobs.  _Should have mixed things up_ , she told herself, stepping around Pete's backpack that he left lying in the middle of the floor as usual. She hooked the straps over her shoulders and rounded the last stack, where she figured on finding Pete ransacking their security system. Deep down, she knew she shouldn't have been surprised by what she found.

Pete faced her, tight smile curving his lips, hands out to the side and in the air. The missing man stood directly behind him, using her friend as a shield and holding a gun to the back of his head. Her heart stopped, freezing in her chest with blind panic. Aislynn followed her instinct in easing to her full height and lifting her gun so it pointed at the ceiling, finger off the trigger. The man barked an order at her, and she wished she could comply but she had no idea what he was saying. "Just let him go," she tried, eyes bouncing back and forth from Pete to the man behind him. "He's only doing what he was told." There, maybe she could get him out of trouble by laying the blame on herself. "He's just a kid."

The man barked again, stepping closer to Pete so he could put an arm around his shoulders. His change in position shifted the gun to the side, putting it in full view on the side of Pete's head. Fear poured down her spine like a waterfall. The man's finger was coiled around the trigger, tense with the intention to kill her friend. She continued her attempts to bargain with him, though, willing to do anything to keep Pete safe.

Pete's intense stare caught her eye. He was telling her something, his tone asking forgiveness despite having done nothing wrong. It was her fault. She had grown cocky and landed him in that position. What did he need her forgiveness for? Tears burned her eyes and she fought the urge to blink them away. She was supposed to keep him safe; she made that promise with herself when they had met. She let him down epically. 

"Sorry," whispered Pete before disappearing. Literally. 

Aislynn gaped at the space Pete had been occupying not a moment ago, wondering what the hell just happened. She couldn't form words, her mind empty of anything other than the realization that Pete had disappeared right before her eyes. Even the Hydra man was flabbergasted as to what had just taken place right before his eyes, which would be amusing if it wasn't for the fact he had held a gun on her friend.

His arms fell away and he jumped back several steps, head swiveling left and right for any sight of Pete. She knew it was the opening she needed, but she couldn't make her body cooperate beyond staring blankly at the man. He yelled something indecipherable, but she assumed it was along the lines of,  _What the fuck just happened_?! She understood the sentiment, if that was the case. Even she was having a hard time comprehending what Pete had done.

From out of nowhere a shot rang out. She didn't even scream in surprise, just watched as a dark red hole suddenly appeared in the center of the man's forehead, blood and grey matter spraying the towers behind him. In slow motion he fell to the ground, then Barnes' chest filled her line of sight. She focused her stare on his face, blinked twice. Where had he come from? And why did she feel like she was having an out of body experience? 

He was speaking to her. She knew he was; the mask that obscured his face shifted over his mouth, clearly indicating words were being formed. Why couldn't she hear him? Her pulse was pounding in her ears; maybe it was that. Her fingers were numb, arms heavy. Quicksand. Where was Pete? 

"Ash!" Aislynn blinked again and refocused on Barnes, finally hearing him. "Snap out of it!"  _I would if I could, buddy_."We need to move." Why? Where was Pete? Had her brain made the inevitable snap and she simply imagined Pete in harm's way? Was he safe at the rental, impatiently waiting for their return? "There was a distress signal, we need to move before any more arrive."

She nodded absently and glanced around the room. "Pete?" She was losing her marbles. That was all. He didn't  _really_  evaporate into thin air. He would have told her he could do such a thing. Right? A hand latched onto her forearm, gently turning her away from Barnes. It was Pete, looking incredibly guilty and immensely relieved. She touched his arm to be sure he was in fact in front of her. When her fingers did not go through his body, she did the only thing she knew to do. She punched him in the chest. Hard. 

All at once her basic motor functions were under her control. Her head spun momentarily, dizzy with the regained feeling throughout her body. "Have you lost your fucking mind!" yelled Aislynn, hitting her friend yet again. He had the good sense to pretend it hurt. "What the fuck was that?" She shoved him away, knocking his hand free of her arm, and stepped toward the door. "I thought you were gone, you fucking jerk! Since when could you do shit like that?"

Barnes interrupted before Pete could come up with a defense. "Less talking, more moving." He nudged them both for the door. 

They quickly hiked back to the car on high alert, changed into regular clothing, and hightailed it back to Drama, to their quiet little apartment. Aislynn didn't speak a word to Pete, not from the time Barnes quelled their conversation until he forced them to bring it up again. And still, it was a wholly one-sided discussion on Barnes’ part.  _Nosy Nancy_ , she silently accused the man, stubbornly staring at the empty wall across from her.

She listened to Pete's explanation, though. Listened to the real reason he was a runaway. Listened to the pain that was underlying his words when he spoke of how his own parents used his ability for their personal gain and how it cost him growing with his family. By the end of his tale, she was less angry at him and more concerned with keeping his family off his trail. Parents were supposed to love their children, nurture them into adulthood, love them with every fiber of their being. Not use their child as a means of getting ahead in life. 

It explained so well why she felt so close to Pete. It was like looking into a mirror, so to speak. Their pasts may have started differently, what with him born with the power to turn invisible and her electric manipulation being thrust upon her, but they were on the same path, one set by betrayal of a loved one. Kindred spirits. 

She still didn't forgive Pete for not telling her before he had a gun held to his head, though. It was hard for her to understand why he would keep it to himself after all the years they had known each other, after he knew her own life story. He knew she wouldn't judge him for what he could do. It didn't make sense to her for him to keep it a secret.  _He must have had his reasons_ , a part of her mind told her, instinctively defending the young man. If Barnes wasn’t around, she would have peppered her friend with questions as to why. 

Instead, Aislynn stood from the couch and made her way up the small staircase tucked in the corner of the house. The second floor held two bedrooms, one for her and the other for Barnes. Pete preferred the small room hidden behind the kitchen on the ground floor, as he greatly enjoyed his midnight snacking without waking everyone else with his footsteps. She couldn’t complain about Barnes being her neighbor: he kept to himself most of the time, did not wake her with random noises at night, and wasn’t the worst sight to behold first thing in the morning. If she happened to time her bedroom exits for the moments she heard him moving for his bedroom door, she would never admit it aloud.

Behind closed doors, she exchanged her street clothes for thick plaid pajamas pants and a long-sleeved shirt and wrapped herself in a blanket from the bed. The room was moderately decorated this go around: simple nightstands on either side of the wide bed held tiny blue lamps, conventional paintings of flowered fields hung on either side of the one window, and a small desk sat opposite the bed with her laptop and a short stack of clean clothes lying on the surface. The walls were plain white, the bedding a pale blue that matched the two little lamps. The heavy curtains on the window were improvised by Aislynn for those nights where she didn’t go to sleep until dawn. In fact, outside the window she could see the sky begin to brighten with the sunrise. Sighing, she drew the curtains to block out the light and slid into bed.

Minutes later, just as she slipped into sleep, Aislynn was woken by a familiar feeling of being watched. She didn’t even have to ponder a  _who_  or  _why_. There was only one person capable of delivering that unsettling stare, and he happened to sleep in the room just on the other side of the wall. “What, Barnes?” she muttered tiredly, not even bothering to open her eyes. He would be standing at the edge of her bed, most likely frowning at her disapprovingly, definitely with those arms crossed over his chest. How many times had she witnessed that stance of late, directed at her? “I’m trying to sleep.”

Without preamble he said, “Your training starts tomorrow morning.” Dang, he even  _sounded_  disappointed. Shocking. So shocking.

That had, however, gotten her to open her eyes just enough to glare at him. “Why?” Jesus, he was so pretty, it was unfair! It was such a contrast from the way he talked to her of late, his clear annoyance with her numerous rejections marring his early politeness. She shouldn’t still be drawn to those stunning blue eyes with him being such a hard ass, shouldn’t still want to curl into his lap like an attention-seeking cat when he had the rare thought to smile. 

While part of her knew why the training would be important, another part of her dreaded the prolonged exposure to his presence. Yes, she had a nasty habit of plotting to meet him in the hallway because Barnes refreshed by sleep was like witnessing something otherworldly gracing the Earth. But that did not mean she wanted to spend hours sweating like a horse in front of him while he barked orders like some sergeant.  _Does he even know how to sweat? I bet not._  Again, unfair.

“You nearly got everyone killed,” he stated plainly, still not budging from his position beside her bed. “You were caught unawares by Hydra agents, something that would have never happened if you had paid better attention to your surroundings. You froze when Pete’s life was in danger, then again when he disappeared. You left yourself open numerous times to kill shots or  _worse_ , capture. If we are to work together, you’re going to be better prepared. I won’t be there next time to cover your ass.”

With that said, Barnes finally turned for the door. Sputtering with self-righteous indignation, Aislynn sat straight in bed and informed him, “I never asked to work together.” Which was true, mostly. It had been an unspoken agreement to team up and take out a common enemy. “And I’m not asking for your help now.”

“Too bad,” he said, yanking the door open and briefly bathing the room in soft light. “You’re getting it.” The door closed with a firm  _snick_ , darkness blanketing everything once again. Seconds later she heard his door close, listened intently to his pacing through the wall at her back. It went on for several minutes, her acute hearing picking the sound of him muttering though she couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

Scowling she crossed her arms over her chest and reclined against the chilled metal headboard. Once, she thought metal beds were adorable and cozy looking. Then she woke to her foot being caught between the bars at the end of the bed, ruining a rather nice dream. Ever since, she rather despised them. On this day, the metal bed frame reminded her too much of Barnes and his moody behavior, prodding uncomfortably at her back.

“Know what,” she muttered, shoving aside the blanket. Rationally she knew she should leave well enough alone, but she was tired, angry, and all out fed up with Barnes’ behavior. Who died and made him King of the castle, huh? Busting into her bedroom unannounced then  _ordering_  her around like she was his to command... She wasn’t a child, nor was she a slave. 

Stomping from her room to his, she shoved the door open without warning. “What gives you the— _Oh my God_!” Aislynn, momentarily frozen in shock, spun quickly on her heel, her face flaming with embarrassment.  _Bad idea, indeed._  “You... You are naked,” she said to the bare wall, attempting to find a focal point that would at least dull the image burning into her retinas. “You are naked and I came in here to yell at you, but you have no pants on.” 

“Did you not see the gun?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, I saw the ‘gun’ alright,” she mumbled, listening avidly to the sound of fabric rustling. While she was glad to know he was dressing, she was also bummed he was hiding away his body. Miles upon miles of hardened muscle, wrapped lovingly in golden skin. Spattering of hair across that impressive chest, tapering down down down like a playful pathway to his groin. Those thighs... to die for!  _So_ _are we just_ _gonna_ _skip over th_ _e_ _metal_ _arm?_  Yes. Yes, she was. Because she was sure she had just adopted a new kink in the millisecond she gawked at the poor man. Okay, it was three seconds, but only because there was  _so much to appreciate!_

His answering snort of amusement wasn’t exactly how she had imagined him responding. No, she had pictured something far more appropriate. Like carting her somewhere with more privacy caveman style and having his dirty, filthy way with her for the next...however long it was until he grew bored with her.  _Get a grip_ , she chided herself, ignoring that impish side that retorted he had a lot to grip. “Not what I meant,” he returned, then when she didn’t reply right off, said, “It’s safe.”

_Be still, my broken heart_. Cautiously she turned her head, eyes falling instantly to his groin. He had, in fact, covered himself.  _Stop pouting_. She forced herself to nod and shifted so she faced him. Briefly she met his expectant gaze, felt her face burn once more, and quickly looked away. “Sorry,” she muttered, staring at the map above his bed. “Still seeing all...” She waved her hand at his body. “Give me a minute.”

He chuckled,  _actually flipping laughed_ , and didn’t it just sound amazing? Had she heard him do more than his usual little snort-scoff in the few weeks they’d known each other? No. She would have remembered. It was rather unforgettable, that deep rumble. “Did you act like this when you saw Pete nude the first time?” Barnes questioned, most likely rhetorically.

That had her sending him a deadpan stare. “You and Pete aren’t even on the same playing field,” she pointed out. “Plus, he’s like my kid brother. Cute, like a squishy puppy or something. Not the same thing.” He arched a single brow at her admission, as if surprised she wouldn’t put the two together. Did he truly think they were the same, body wise? Or was it that she didn’t consider them the same in her eyes? “Yeah, let’s not pretend you’re not attractive. That’s just gonna cause problems. We’re adults.” Mostly. “We can admit when another adult is hot.” Because that was totally what she was doing. Completely. Yup. 

“Right,” he muttered, eyeballing her in a way that said he knew she was full of shit. “Either way, didn’t take you for a square.”

She gasped. “Take that back! I ain’t no square! I just didn’t think you walked around in the nude,” she ended her indignant rant smoothly, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, I don’t usually have people barging into my room unannounced,” he pointed out.

_Lightbulb!_  “But you have no issue doing the same to me.” Utterly unrepentant. Barnes didn’t even have the kindness to be mildly apologetic for hovering over her bed and waking her whenever she was sleeping with his weird lurking. “You really should stop doing that. You didn’t like it when I done-”

Barnes interrupted, “Who said I didn’t like it?”

It took her half a minute to form a response. “You pointed a gun at me,” she said finally, snapping her fingers triumphantly. “People don’t do that if they are happy to be barged in on.”

He nodded. “So you’re saying you like when I barge into your room.”

“What?” sputtered Aislynn. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“I disagree,” he said, and she knew he was only saying it to get a rise out of her but she was still falling for it. “You said people don’t pull guns when they enjoy it. You don’t pull guns.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Now you’re just being annoying.” He grinned, all boyish and cute and  _dear God, my heart!_  “You know exactly what I’m saying, Barnes. Can you please knock on my door when you need to speak to me? One day I’m gonna pee my pants because you’ve scared the piss right out of me. It’s not a good feeling.”

He considered her request, visibly debating if she would truly wet herself because of his hovering. “Okay, Ash,” he agreed finally, allowing her a moment of relief at knowing he wouldn’t hear things she didn’t want him hearing while she slept. “And I’ll be sure to not pull a gun on you the next time you shove your way in my room. Is that all?”

Now that the matter was settled, she kinda wanted to hang around longer. See for herself what he had laying around his space that he didn’t want just anyone seeing. Sneak a few more looks of his chest. Get a closer look at his arm.  _Noooo_ _, bad_ _bad_ _idea!_  Yeah, she was gonna go with her conscience on that plan. Just because he had forgone a shirt, didn’t mean he wanted her to pepper him with questions about what led to his metal appendage.  _Scars. All those scars._  “That’s all,” she stated, moving back for the door. “Good night, Barnes.”

“Good night, Ash.”

Sleep had turned elusive when she returned to her room; she tossed and turned, kicked off the blanket then yanked it back over her head, and fought herself on more than one occasion in effort to go to sleep. Her body was exhausted, muscles aching, but her mind was going full blast. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived that fleeting moment in Barnes’ room where she had gotten more of an eyeful than she bargained for. Over and over she imagined the various ways it could have ended, versus the reality of what happened. A few stopped when he shut her out of his room, though more often than not she found herself wrapped around him like a strand of Christmas lights on a tree. 

The next morning came far too early for one who wasn’t well rested. Barnes knocked lightly on her door before easing it open, waking her with the hallway light falling directly across her face. Groaning, she yanked the pillow over her head and burrowed further under the blanket. “Rise and shine,” he greeted, sounding far too chipper for her appeal. She shifted the pillow far enough off her face to glare daggers in his general direction and grunted a very unbecoming insult his way. “Is this another one of those things about entering a person’s room? Because I’m starting to feel like I need to make a list of what I should and should not do according to Ash.”

“Go away,” she muttered, rolling away from the light and squeezing her eyes shut.  _I can totally go back to sleep and not dream about the way he says my name. Definitely. As soon as he stops saying my name._  “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Too bad,” he said. “It’s training time. You’ve got an hour to wake up and dress appropriately. If you’re not ready within that generous amount of time, I’ll just drag you away as is.”

“Why does it sound like you want me to take too long?” she asked, hearing an undertone of challenge in his decree. Maybe it was just her over hopeful mind playing tricks on her, though; he had yet to indicate he was even mildly attracted to her.  _Nah, he just wants to assert his dominance. Again._  

She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’ll leave you to figure that one out.” The door closed behind him with a gentle click. 

Aislynn lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a long while after he left, debating with herself if she should push her luck and force his hand. On the one hand, it would leave her open to him knowing she wanted to jump his bones; it would be painfully obvious. On the other, she would also know if his little dare meant he was equally attracted to her. He was hard to read, a trait she knew to be from whatever training he received at the hands of Hydra. She needed all the help she could get when it came to figuring the man out.

In the end, though, her cowardice won out and she dressed in record time. She laced up her shoes, braided her hair out of her face, and met Barnes downstairs. Whereas she dressed in form-fitting leggings meant for working out and a loose t-shirt over a sports bra, Barnes wore loose sweatpants and a black hoodie, his hands covered in the usual leather gloves. Pete was nowhere in sight, lucky bastard doubtlessly still sleeping. Scowling at her misfortune, she filled a neon pink travel mug to the brim with coffee and snagged a few breakfast bars from the cabinet.

“Rough night?”

She grunted noncommittally at Barnes’ inquiry and shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers. “Let’s get this over with,” she sighed, hugging the mug to her chest like a lifeline. “The sooner we start, the sooner I can pretend you aren’t truly trying to kill me.” She just  _knew_ his version of training was going to leave her curled on the floor in a ball of pain. Especially after that little fiasco when they first arrived in Greece. He was a machine when he executed his skills; it stood to reason his teaching her anything useful would mimic.

“Dramatic,” he muttered, snagging the mug from her hands without an ounce of fight and exchanging it with her own coat. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra outside. Put that on.” He didn’t wait around for her to follow orders, leaving her standing just inside the house while he went out to the car. A blast of frosty Northern air smacked her in the face, effectively waking her common sense long enough to put on the sweatshirt as told. Seconds later she joined him in the car, where he was holding out her mug with a smug smile on his face. 

“Shut up,” she grumbled, holding the lip of the mug against her mouth just for the warmth radiating from the opening. Barnes grinned at her surly attitude and began to drive. “Why isn’t Pete tagging along?” It wasn’t fair he was able to sleep in, seeing as he was part of the reason she was stuck in her current situation. Clearly he too could use help in stealth.

“It isn’t his turn,” informed Barnes. “You get mornings, he gets afternoons. Easier that way. He is too cheerful when he wakes up and I might end up dumping his body off a cliff. I’ve no doubt you would be unhappy if that happened.”

She blinked at his statement, his words spoken so matter-of-factly she had difficulty deciding if he was being honest or just pulling her leg. “Says the guy who is all jokes and grins before the sun is even up,” she mumbled, side eyeing him. Would he really kill Pete because the boy was a morning person? Or was he exaggerating like she normally would? She could definitely understand the urge to smother the boy with a pillow or drown him in the sink when he was nearly bouncing with excited energy before she had her first sip of coffee. But she would never actually  _do_ such a thing. Barnes, on the other hand...

“What can I say. You’re adorable when you’re grumpy.”

It took all of her willpower not to smack him. “You’re a roller coaster,” she pointed out, sipping at the black coffee.  _Bitter, like my soul this sour morning._  “I can’t seem to keep up with you,” she added when he frowned her way. “One minute you’re all Murder Stare and jumping at shadows, and the next you’re cracking jokes and laughing. It’s messing with my head.” 

His frown deepened desolately, and she instantly felt rotten for making him feel bad about himself. She knew he was having a hard time, didn’t know a lick about what they did to make him scared of his own shadow. It didn’t give her the right to drag him down for trying. If anyone understood the way he was, it was Aislynn. Even if only minutely. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said a moment later, ashamed. “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.”

“No,” he said quietly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” she argued and shifted slightly in her seat to face him. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, only know what you’ve done the last few weeks. It was wrong of me to even make a comment on it. Even if your Murder Stare freaks me out,” she said in attempts to make him feel better. His lips lifted a fraction at the corner.  _Fail_. “You do have a nice smile though. Makes you look younger. Happier. You’ve come a long way since we met, too. Yesterday was the first time you pulled a weapon on me in a couple weeks.”

“You didn’t even notice the weapon,” he reminded her.

“Well, I was distracted by your nakedness. Can’t fault me for that. It was a lot to take in.”  _That_ , of course, had him grinning again. She groaned dramatically. “Oh God, don’t go getting a big ego on me. That’s the last thing I need.” His grinned remained in place, which she was happy to see. She hadn’t been lying when she said his smile made him look younger. It was all boyish and charming, heartwarming and stomach churning. Dashing. She could suck up making herself vulnerable for those instances that left him feeling lighthearted. 

Barnes drove another hour before turning off the main road onto one made of dirt. She wasn’t all that sure where he was taking her, but she no longer felt like he was out to kill her so she sat quietly and finished off the last dregs of coffee. It was a moderately bumpy ride, but the older car handled it well enough, only jostling her now and then when the ruts were deeper than expected. She refrained from battering him with questions about the place they were going, far too busy staring at the thick forest surrounding them. The trees were thinned out overhead with the approach of winter, but it didn’t stop her from appreciating the beauty of the higher limbs twining together to make a canopy. She imagined it would look stunning in the summer when the leaves were in abundance and the sunlight peaked through the edges. 

The car broke through the edge of the tree line minutes later, slowing to a stop beside a dilapidated barn. Old farm equipment lined the sides of the building, rusted and falling apart. The building itself looked to be leaning precariously to the right, as if a strong enough wind would topple it right over, and its slanted roof looked to be missing a few chunks from making it whole. The paint was faded and chipped, telling of a past where it was once kept in shape and cared for properly. 

Aislynn followed when Barnes stepped from the car, trailing behind him to the barn. There were numerous dried tire tracks beneath her feet, lending her to think he had been there many times before this morning. He knew where to go and showed her what to watch for when she stepped over the broken fence. He even held the stiff door open for her to go inside first. “So.” She glanced around the inside, noting how all the older interior walls had been removed while the outer walls were reinforced. The floor had been cleared completely, with an old sparring mat taking up the center. On one section of the wall were various lengths of stick, from short batons to body-length staffs. “Come here often?” she teased, smirking his way so he knew she was only taunting him playfully. 

He still took her question seriously. “Most nights,” he replied. “When I cannot sleep. It helps clear my head.” He pulled off his hoodie and hung it on an old hook near the door. Once again she was greeted with not only the welcoming sight of his body in a tight-fitted tank top, but his strange arm as well. Curiosity rode her hard, her mind blasting out question after question despite her pointedly keeping her mouth shut.  _If he wants me to know about it, he will bring it up_ , she told herself firmly. “We are going to spend part of the morning working on your stamina,” he told her then, motioning for her to also hang her coat. “Then we will move on to some basic defense maneuvers, followed by an offense that will work for your size.”

She nodded appropriately and joined him by the mat. “And how are we going to do all that in here?” 

He tossed her a thin rope, picking up one for himself. “Warm up first,” he said. “Start jumping.” 

Aislynn didn’t argue with his command. By the time he called it quits for the day her entire body burned from the effort she put in to keep up with his orders. Her brain itself was mush. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember the last ten minutes of instruction. She just knew those shorter sticks were involved and that her knuckles were bruised. “Can I die now?” she asked politely, tiredly from her prone sprawl on the mat. 

“When we get back, you are more than welcome to die on the living room floor,” he granted. He wasn’t even moderately winded, the bastard. 

“You’re gonna have to drag me to the car,” she grumbled, making him laugh. “Is any of what you taught gonna stick in my head? Because I think my brain is leaking out through my scalp. I don’t remember shit.”

“Repetition,” he told her, offering her a hand up. “You do it enough, it’ll become second nature. Same as tying your shoes.”

She groaned pitifully as he pulled her gently to her feet. “I don’t think tying my shoes ever left me like this.” Stiffness was setting in to her muscles already, and she limped her way to her coat. “I think you broke my ass. No, don’t deny it. It’s entirely possible, otherwise it wouldn’t hurt so bad.”

He laughed quietly at her melodramatic words. “Take a shower when we get back,” he suggested. “It’ll help.”

“I’ll still hate you for breaking my ass either way.” She tugged on her coat, picked up her empty water bottle and coffee mug, and followed him to the car. Barnes, in her opinion, displayed an amazing spurt of kindness on their ride back to the house by letting her nap the entire ride. Pete tried engaging her in conversation when they walked in, but her growling grunt of annoyance ended any conversation he had in mind.  _Shower, eat, sleep._  That was her immediate plan of action. It did not include talking to anyone, which made it absolutely perfect. 

Hours later, after having executed her plan to perfection, she woke to the sound of Barnes and Pete returning. If she had any energy, she would have gone down just to see how bad off Pete was, but the silence blanketing the house was answer enough. Pete, the usually talkative one of the trio, made absolutely zero noise when entering the house. She would have laughed if she could feel any part of her body.

Minutes later, a soft knock alerted her to company and she grunted loud enough that Barnes took it as an invitation to join her. “Just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” he teased as he stepped over to the bed. “Feeling any better?”

“No,” she complained quietly. “I can’t tell which part of me hurts more: my pride or my actual body. You have wounded me, vicious man. Wounded me.”

She could just make out his smile in the dim light. “At least you can still make jokes,” he offered before hesitating.

Huh? Was he being... bashful? That woke her tired brain like a shot of espresso to the veins. She had never really seen him shy about something. Confused, frustrated, angry, but never bashful. “What’s on your mind?” Because whatever he was debating himself over had to be epic and she just needed to know. 

He leveled her with a questioning stare before reaching over to close the door. Oh, whatever it was meant he didn’t want Pete to know! If Pete was out of his room, because she was almost certain she could hear the shower running below her. “I want to thank you,” Barnes said finally, which only served to confuse her.

What had she done to warrant his gratitude? She had been down right bitchy most of the morning, though she kept her complaints to herself until he had finished his torture session. Nothing to be thanked for, she decided and pushed herself into a sitting position. Once she had reclined against the headboard, ignoring the cold of the metal bars, she invited him to sit as well. “You’re gonna have to explain what I did,” she told him when he stood still. “I’m drawing a blank as to why you would thank me. What did I do?”

Again he hesitated before perching himself on the edge of the bed, facing her. “For not tell Pete about my arm,” Barnes said quietly, not quite meeting her gaze. 

“Oh.” She hummed awkwardly, picking nervously at the blanket over her lap. “Well, it wasn’t my place to talk about it, Barnes. If you wanted him to know, you would tell him. Did you tell him?” He shook his head quickly, and she grew even more curious. “How did you keep him from seeing it?” 

Barnes tugged off his hoodie to reveal a long sleeve shirt in place of the tank he had worn with her. “I...” He stared at the sleeve covering his left arm, his brows creased slightly in the middle. “It was different when you saw it.”

“And I wouldn’t have if I didn’t bust into your room unannounced,” she pointed out with shame. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her, sending her a brief smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t keep it hidden away forever, right?”

“Hey,” she admonished, chiding his self-depreciating tone. Gently she reached out and grasped his forearm, fingers curling around the stiff metal. “You can keep it hidden as long as you wish. It’s nobody else’s place to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with. It’s your body, you do with it as  _you_  wish.” Belatedly, she noticed how he stared at her hand on his arm. Aislynn released him like he was part hot potato. “Sorry! Again.”

He shook his head slowly, almost as if he were lost in a mental fog, and replaced her hand on him. “I don’t remember a time when anyone touched me without malicious intent,” he confessed in a whisper, covering her hand with his to keep it in place. His stare shifted away from her touch to the floor at his feet, and she could see the wheels in his mind turning at a rapid pace. Was he filing this moment away for those times when he couldn’t see the good in others? Or, more dismally, trying to name the emotion her touch evoked? 

Slowly she shifted closer until she was seated beside him, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee, her hand remaining in place all the while. “Well, you can trust that I wouldn’t be one of those people,” she promised, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder. “I’m moody, snarky, and rather bitchy at times, but I still have a hard time being purposefully hateful or physically violent.”

“I’ve noticed,” he commented blandly, bringing up her atrocious fighting skills in their previous raid. She elbowed his ribs, smiling despite what he said. He softened his criticism by saying, “It’s not a bad thing to be soft, to want to avoid inflicting harm.” He paused to take a deep breath, letting out slowly between his lips as his body deflated from the release of tension. “I think one day, that’s what I’ll do. Be soft. Help versus hurt.”

“What you’re doing now,” she told him, giving his arm a kind squeeze, “ _is_  helping. Yes, you are hurting the ones in Hydra, but you are saving their future targets from harm. You are helping me by teaching me how to defend myself, even if I do complain incessantly and whine without end. And I have a feeling, one day, you will be able to sit back and be proud of what you have accomplished with your life.”

“Even if my past is nothing to be proud of?”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Mine is nothing to be proud of,” she admitted. “I ran away from home, was kidnapped by my own father, turned into... this, and in the process, my mother died without knowing what happened to me. I’ll forever live with the guilt of causing her that pain. But, now that he is out of the picture, I  _can_  ease my guilt by knowing I’m doing what I can to keep others safe from them. So you may feel that guilt for whatever your past holds, but you can ease it by doing good for the rest of the world. It doesn’t sound like much, but it keeps me going at least. Maybe it can do the same for you.”

He sat quietly for several minutes, though he gradually eased his head to rest atop hers. Her heart leapt with happiness and she turned her head slightly to hide her smile against his shoulder, shifting her body closer. It wasn’t much, his returning her touch, but it was something.  _Everything_. “You’re a good man, Barnes,” she murmured. “No matter what they made you believe.” And she knew they could make a person believe anything with a bit of elbow grease. 

“James.”

James? Frowning curiously, she lifted her head to look at him. “Who’s that?”

He didn’t answer right away, simply stared at the wall like it held all the answers in the world. “Me,” he said finally with a firm nod, then returned her stare. “I’m James.”

She smiled at the challenge in his eyes, fully expecting her to argue with him over it.  _So_ _curious_. “That’s a lovely name,” she said. “I’ve always been fond of the name James.” She did wonder if that was his actual name or if he simply picked it up along the way, but she kept the questions to herself. “James Barnes,” she repeated aloud, carefully forming each letter as if tasting it on her tongue. She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, very good name.”

He rolled those pretty blue eyes at her but he smiled anyway, those eyes finally shining. “I’ve always thought so,” he agreed. “It just took me a while for it to grow on me.”

Ah, an opening! Should she take it?  _Take it_ , her mind coaxed. “Is it not your real name?”

“I didn’t think it was at first,” he told her. “It felt like a stranger’s name. But since Project Insight, I’ve had this... I dunno, voice I guess telling me it was mine. To own it.”

She wasn’t all that sure what he meant by Project Insight, but it too did not concern her. “Well, I’m glad you listened to that voice,” she said firmly. “It’s very smart. I think that name suits you.”

“I find it suits better than the other name it keeps telling me is mine.” 

When he didn’t elaborate, she hedged to suggest, “Maybe in time that will feel like yours as well. No need to rush it. If it never seems to fit, so be it. James is still one heck of a name.” His lips curved again, and she felt like she had set a world record while she watched. Seriously, he was too beautiful as it was. When he smiled, it just sent her world into disarray and left her wishing she could do the same to him. Or at the very least show mercy upon her poor soul. Sighing tiredly, Aislynn impulsively kissed his cheek and nudged his shoulder. “Go on,” she ordered, needing a respite from his presence. “I need my sleep. Someone is determined to kill me by making me exercise.”

Laughing he went to the door. “Good night, Ash,” he bid. “Rest well.”

She scoffed and threw a pillow at him, making him laugh loudly through the quickly closed door. “Good night, James.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this the Sex Chapter. Not gonna lie, it's mostly porn, with a dash of plot. I'm going to admit, I'm a bit nervous posting it, as my usual audiences for such scenes are my personal friends and this is the first time I've written a sex scene solo, with all my others being written with my WP of 7 years on FB or G+. 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4

Madrid, Spain

February 2015

Since the incident in Greece, the trio of crimefighters decided a break was in order. Truthfully, James all out demanded a break in order to get Aislynn and Pete into fighting shape. For weeks on end he had them running drills and pushing them to their limits, demanding only the best from his hard work and dedication. It was sheer luck the abandoned village in southern Spain they decided to claim during those two months had not been on anyone’s Prospective Buying list. 

When he felt they were up to snuff and declared it was time to rejoin modern civilization, she was honestly saddened to leave the little place. It had been so peaceful, the seclusion giving her time to unwind from the fast pace her life had been consumed with the last several months. The view of the mountains from her room were prime real estate, if she did say so herself. 

Their time in the mountains also brought Aislynn and James closer. When he wasn’t running them into the dirt, the pair were taking hikes along the mountain side. She had learned far more about him during that time than she ever thought possible, hearing firsthand accounts of what he suffered at the hands of Hydra. Many a night she would just sit with him outside and stare at the sky while he processed the return of memories. He shared snippets of what he remembered concerning how he obtained the arm; she didn’t sleep very well herself for several nights, her imagination kicking into overdrive whenever she closed her eyes. 

With the bad memories came several good ones. While many were centered around who he considered his parents and younger sisters, most revolved around a small blond boy. His best friend, she would tell him when he couldn’t decide how to label the boy. He told her of the laughter they shared, of the terror he felt whenever the boy grew sick. His friend was a feisty thing, from what James recalled, and she couldn’t help but admire the kid’s grit. Something about his memories, however, tickled the back of her mind, something she knew she should remember, but she was so focused on letting him have his moment it kept her from thinking about it too long. 

He was her friend. Aislynn was confident in her ability to say as much. She put her romantic feelings for him on a far back burner, more than happy to be his confidante than anything else. While a part of her craved something far more carnal with James, she was also content to be exactly as she was. She knew he didn’t have many of friends running around the world. 

“Dibs!” Aislynn hollered from the end of the hall of their newest accommodations. It was a small room, mostly consisting of a bed and dresser, but that bed looked to be the most comfortable. And it had its own little bathroom she wouldn’t have to share. She heard Pete curse from the opposite end of the hall and cackled. She dropped her suitcase and laptop case on the bed, careful of the suitcase as her camera was tucked into the clothes to conserve space and protect her equipment. “Sucker!”

“You’re an evil woman,” Pete complained, tossing his bags into the room at the mouth of the hall. “What do you need a private bathroom for anyway?”

Aislynn lifted an eyebrow at his question. “What do  _you_  need a private bathroom for, Petey? You got something to share with the class?” 

“Masturbation,” he said. “I need privacy to spank the monkey.”

She snorted. “You’re not the only one with needs, Pete. Suck it up and keep it to shower time.”

“Just do me a favor and clean up after yourself,” James muttered, moving around Pete to claim the last room. “I’d rather not have special surprises while I’m washing my hair.”

“Don’t ruin his hair, Pete. He’s doing mankind a service having hair so luxurious,” she chimed and returned to her room to unpack. “I’ve never been more jealous of a man in my life and it’s all his hair’s fault.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” called Pete. 

“Is hate masturbation a thing?” asked Aislynn. “Because I feel like it should be.”

“Is that a legit question?”

“Of course it is, Pete! Hate sex is real, why can’t hate masturbation be real?”

She could hear James’ answering sigh of regret from wherever he had gone after depositing his bag in his room. “You two make me feel dirty,” he informed them. She could hear him shuffling around, the sound of furniture being shifted to his liking. “Can we not discuss how my hair makes women wet? It’s weird.”

Pete was quick to assert a distracted, “It’s not your hair that makes her wet, my friend,” resulting in the sound of a table being bumped into in the main room.

“Shut up, Pete,” Aislynn grumbled, unable to say more without outright lying. She studiously avoided glancing in the direction of the main room, already feeling that burning stare on the back of her neck. Her face flamed with embarrassment and she felt the urge to strangle Pete with his own underwear for outing her the way he did. She didn’t want James to know for a reason: She didn’t want to pressure more from him than he was willing to give. She was his friend, first and foremost.

Pete held a one-sided conversation while she finished unpacking, either not noticing or not caring that neither she nor James were contributing in any way to the topic at hand. When the last of her things were put away, she hooked her messenger bag over her shoulder and stuffed her wallet and passport inside. “I’m going to get take out,” she told the pair, who were hovering in the kitchen like they were expecting food to just magically appear. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to turn into cannibals while I’m out.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.” 

Aislynn bit back a curse when James offered to tag along, knowing she had no real excuse to give him that would end with him staying with Pete. Rather she found herself walking to the nearest restaurant with him at her side, his quiet presence no longer a balm to her spirit. No, at the moment, he was sandpaper scratching at her skin. And all because Pete couldn’t keep his mouth shut.  _Imma_ _kill that boy one day._

James hung back while she ordered for herself and Pete, then took his turn with the young waitress. “Ash,” he began once the girl was far enough away.

Aislynn shook her head. “Please, don’t. I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“How do you know what I’m going to say?” The look she shot him stated clearly, she wasn’t a moron and he shouldn’t treat her as such. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But come on-”

“No, James,” she said again, practically begging him to drop the subject. “I don’t... Not right now. I’m tired and the last thing I want to talk about is...that.” Because she was tired. She felt worn to the bone, hurt and betrayed by her friend. Friends didn’t out another’s crush.  _Kicking his ass so hard!_  

She could feel James’ stare boring into her skull, knew whatever he was looking for was written all over her face. She didn’t outright deny, again, what Pete had said. She didn’t have the heart to lie either. He knew, the ball was in his court whether she liked it or not. But he granted her request, which was both crushing and relieving. She was a teenager all over again, worried that a boy didn’t like her and was finding a nice way to let her down. How silly was that? In the grand scheme of things, being concerned that someone with a penis didn’t  _like her_  like her was so trivial. She had bigger things on which to focus her attention. 

Time dragged on while they waited for the food in awkward silence. When the waitress returned with the bags, Aislynn could have wept in relief. She was one step closer to locking herself in her room and making peace with what she couldn’t have. James paid and hefted the two bags from the counter before she could do either task. “I could do that,” she pointed out, but he merely passed over one of the bags for her to carry and lead the way out of the restaurant. 

The trek back to the flat was just as quiet as before, and she knew she shouldn’t have expected more. But she did. She may have wanted to avoid the big-ticket item, but they could easily talk about anything else. And she wanted to hear his voice, as selfish as that was to admit. “Are you just not going to talk to me now?” she asked him softly when they entered the building. “Because I didn’t mean I didn’t want to talk at all. Just not about what Pete said.”

He shrugged, saying, “It’s what I want to talk about.”

She bit back a sound of dejection and proceeded up the stairs to the top floor. So, he really was going to not speak to her until she gave the go ahead on what he wanted to talk about. “Look,” she said over her shoulder, “I’m fine with just being your friend. You’re a good guy and I’m not going to push for anything.” She stopped in the middle of the stairs to face him, stiffening her spine for the coming rejection. “Pete shouldn’t have blurted out my business, but you shouldn’t feel obligated to say or do anything in regards to it.”

James’ eyebrows bent with his curiosity and he asked, “Is that what you’re worried about? That I won’t be your friend because of what he said?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m worried that you would feel like you need to do something about it and I’m not going to allow that. Like I said, I’m good being just a friend. I  _like_ being your friend and having you as a friend. I don’t have many of those, and I’m sure you don’t either. As such, I’m telling you now you have no such responsi-”

“You really should just stop talking,” he said with a roll of his eyes, though his fond smile softened the blow of his reprimand. “If I did decide to do something about what he said, it wouldn’t be because of responsibility or whatever else it is you’ve cooked up in your head. I’m long passed doing anything that I don’t want to do. It’ll be because  _I_  wanted to do it in the first place. Got it?”

Well, if that was his way to let her down easy, he needed lessons on lessening the sting. “Understood,” she replied, ignoring with all her might how her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Friends, nothing more. She could deal with that, just like she said. Once she was able to hide away in her room and drown her sorrows in a bucket of ice cream.  _Dammit, I need ice cream now._

“Good, and now that that is settled.” Without warning James gripped the back of her head in his left hand and pulled her against his chest, cutting off her shocked gasp with his mouth and knocking her off balance. It took her far too long to mentally register what was going on, so sure her imagination had run amok yet again, that he lifted his lips from hers. She made a sound in the back of her throat, one she didn’t truly recognize she could make, and closed that distance again, fisting her free hand into his hair in effort to hold him against her.

His laugh, throaty and raw, vibrated into her chest and both of his arms came around her, tilting her in a way that allowed him the opportunity he needed to deepen the kiss. Her lips fell open at the brush of his tongue, welcoming him without pause. The warmth of his mouth seeped into her, spreading from the slide of their tongues until her entire body pulsed with heat.

She was dizzy with the smell of him in her nose, the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of his hair wrapped around her fingers. Her body molded to his, her softer curves following the shape of his hardened muscle. Against her hip she could feel the demanding press of his erection, the evidence of his desire scalding her senses. In her chest her heart raced with adrenaline, chasing the pace James set with his own. 

“Hey, I’ll take that food and y’all can find a room.” Aislynn twitched at the sound of Pete’s voice overhead and pulled away from James long enough to glare at her smiling friend. “If it’s cool with you, I mean.”

“I think I’m gonna throw yours out,” she threatened, though she already set about detangling herself from James’ embrace. She muttered to him, “He has really shitty timing,” which made him grin. His eyes were bright with need, face flush, lips glistening and swollen. She knew she looked much the same, but on him it just succeeded in making him more attractive. Impulsively she licked her lips, the skin tingling from his kiss, and drew his sharp gaze. “We should-”

“Yeah,” he muttered, staring openly at her mouth. 

“Any day now,” Pete called, and James lifted his hand to flip him off. Aislynn snorted and took a step away, turning to finish the journey to the top floor. “Lenny, you need to brush that mop of yours.”

“You need to stick a cork in it,” she shot back, uncaring if her once-secured hair was falling around her head. It meant the kiss had been real, that her blood sang in her veins for a reason. She was grinning like a loon, walking on a cloud. Pete’s teasing wouldn’t change it. 

After dinner, which consisted mostly of sneaky heated glances across the table and conversation that surprisingly did not revolve around the stairwell kiss, Pete excused himself from the flat. “I really don’t want to listen to you guys doing the nasty,” he supplied on his way out. “Just stay off the couch, out of my room, and clean any communal surfaces. And use protection!”

Aislynn shut the door in his face with an evil laugh and locked the door. “Now you can’t stop me from using the couch!” Turning, she pulled a Pete’s key from her pocket and shook it at James, who stood in the walkway to the kitchen, shoulders tense. Of course, she wouldn’t leave her friend out all night; she wasn’t completely cruel. But it would teach him to drop a subject he had no business discussing. "Have fun,” she called to her friend, tossing the key onto the table.

Smiling to herself, she returned to the kitchen to clear away the dinner mess. She tossed James a wet cloth, nodding to the table. “I don’t know about you,” she said as she scraped the few pieces of leftover food into the trash, “but performing on command isn’t my style. Too much pressure, not enough fun.” The bags they had used to bring back dinner were folded and placed neatly into a cabinet and the few dishes they used were stacked beside the sink for later cleaning. 

She wasn’t nervous, exactly. Many a time she and James spent the evening alone, either watching a movie on her laptop or playing a game of cards. It wasn’t a new concept. Only now there was an added expectancy of how they would do to spend their time; it was far too much pressure for her when she was still reeling from that kiss.

When the kitchen was once again spotless and she had nothing to do with her hands to occupy her time, Aislynn looked to James. He was standing in the center of the living room, watching her with an eagle stare. Evidently she wasn’t the only one at a loss of what to do. She dragged her eyes down the length of his body, taking in the wide stance of his legs and the clenching of his fists at his sides. He radiated tension, though for the life of her she couldn’t tell if it was from the need to run away or the desire to pick up where they had left off. 

Meeting his blazing stare head on, she took a step closer, testing his resolve. As if they were connected by a strand of elastic, James took an equal step in her direction. Her heart soared. He wasn’t running from her, the nettling fear evaporating as quickly as it appeared. Smile welcoming, she trailed her way around him for the hall. Despite what she had told Pete, she had zero intention of ever having sex in shared space. James, however, remained rooted in front of the couch, following her every move with determined focus.  _Can’t have that_... With one last daring flicker of green eyes across his frame, she peeled her top from her body and dropped it to the floor, beginning a trail of breadcrumbs for him to pursue.

Next were her shoes, tailgated by her jeans. All the while she listened to the sound of his booted feet stalking the hall. In the doorway of her room landed her lace bra and matching panties. The heat radiating from his body fleetingly pushed against her back before she slithered into bed and turned to recline against the stack of pillow, avidly watching and patiently waiting. 

During the weeks hidden away in the mountains for training, Aislynn learned quick James simply could not pass on a dare. Presently he didn’t disappoint. He stood at the foot of the bed and made a tantalizing display of removing his clothing, unwrapping the glory that was his body. Scar tissue was splattered randomly across his torso, small discolored lines that reminded her of slices delivered by knives. None compared to the thick ropes of scarring surrounding the metal encasing part of his chest and back. His arm shone in the overhead light, sections gathering the light to sparkle like diamonds. 

Her hands itched to assist when his fingers closed around the buckle of his belt, and the thick length of leather came to rest on the edge of the bed. Her breath hitched with anticipation as she eyeballed the leather, and she squeezed her thighs together in effort to alleviate the pressure building in her loins. Quickly, before she was distracted by her own imagination, she focused her attention back where it belonged. Just in time to witness the removal of several weapons. “I don’t think Pete meant that kind of protection,” she teased, envious of the way his hands cradled the butts of the guns and tangs of knives. 

James rolled with her taunt, saying, “You can never be too careful.” He shifted to lay each piece across the surface of her dresser, mesmerizing her with the gather and release of his dense lats and traps. Once more she was drawn to equating the way he worked his body to that of a machine, always primed and ready. She witnessed more than once his own workout routine, knew then and there she would never be able to keep up with the intensity in order to mimic his artistic yet cunning movements. And she was moments away from having it all aimed her way...

She waited until he faced her once more to shift her body to the end of the bed, kneeling inches away. Eyes colliding, she cupped his jaw in both hands, fingers skating over the coarse hairs of his beard, and coaxed him neared until their lips met once more. Flames ignited instantaneously throughout her limbs, coalescing low in her stomach and pooling heavily between her legs. The resulting moan was muffled by his mouth. Gone was the hesitant touches of earlier, the questioning glances, the awkward atmosphere. Deep within her a switch flipped and she fed her starving need with his dancing tongue. 

James answered in kind, groaning and growling into her mouth as he groped every inch of her body he could reach. Back, back, back he pressed until she was stretched across the bed, cushioned from below by the bedding and crushed above by his impressive weight. His scent, his heat, his everything surrounded her, encasing her in the inferno they were creating. She wound her limbs about his frame, fingers gripping wantonly at his shoulders and back. 

He broke the kiss first, leaving her gasping for much needed air while he began a path down her neck. She whimpered his name like a prayer, reaching for any part of him she could get her hands on. His fingers curled over her breasts, the tips grasping taut nipples and turning her whispered moans into loud cries. When his lips closed around one sensitive tip, her entire spine bowed off the bed, shoving her nipple deeper into the warm chasm of his mouth. With each suck of his mouth was an answering pull between her legs. Her clit ached from the lack of contact, her folds slick and hot despite the chill in the air. Her hips writhed in a silent plea for friction, for anything that would ease the building tension.

James released her nipple with a soft pop and blanketed her mouth with his, murmuring a gentle but firm, “Shh,” against her lips. His hands, hot flesh and cool metal, traveled down her torso, tickling with the barely-there grazes. He suckled on her lips until the heat cooled then slid a seeking hand between her legs. His fingers sank between wet folds and he groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he chided playfully, voice cracking, kissing her lips. “So wet, Ash, you’re so wet.”

“James,” she mewled, bucking her hips into his hand. He allowed her the time to rub along the length of his hand, held firm so she could grind her clit into the heel of his palm. “Please,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, desperate for him to sink his long fingers deep inside her. 

“Shh,” he said again, giving her one last kiss before folding himself between her legs. She lifted herself onto her elbows, stared between the small valley of her breasts, focused solely on watching where his mouth would go. He glanced up briefly, fingertips brushing back and forth over her flesh. She could see he was gauging her reactions, making note of the tiniest detail, so she pushed her legs as far apart as she could go before causing pain, opening herself in more ways than one. His mouth curved with approval a brief second before he closed the distance to her clit.

Aislynn forgot how to breathe. Her throat closed off completely and her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. But she didn’t care if she passed out; she would wake right back up anyway. No, all she cared for was the way his teeth grazed the delicate bundle of nerves and how his tongue licked away the brief bite of pain before he did it all over again. She shook from head to toe, her thighs twitching from the struggle to stay open despite her body deeming it all too much.  _NO!_  She wanted more, craved more! And when James sank his tongue into her body, fucking in and out much the way she wished he would do with other, far more firm body parts, she knew she had no choice but to keep her legs in place.

It didn’t take long before her moans turned into ragged cries and she held her ankles in a bruising grip, nails digging into her skin. She begged, cursed, praised. His name frequently passed her lips, the volume depending on what he was currently doing with his tongue. Her thighs burned were his beard brushed, a welcoming feeling. “James!” she whined, rocking her hips so that she rode his mouth, ever seeking that peak he was delivering on a silver platter.

With a carnal growl, the sound alone sending a thrill down her spine, James reared over her. That shiny fist sank into the wisps of hair at the base of her skull, tangling those longer strands tight around the digits and tugging. “Oh, God,” she groaned, her eyes rolling back. Next he shifted her legs and pressed them into the mattress with his own, careful of his weight. A full body twitch followed the feel of being pinned. Lastly his fingers, hot and heavy, sank without warning into her core, thrusting almost punishingly. With nothing else to do, Aislynn sank her fingers into the exposed flesh of his sides, pinkies curling into the beltloops of his pants. 

He bent over her, lips pressing against the shell of her ear, speaking low and dirty of everything he planned to do to her that night. She moaned and nodded with each filthy detail, panting and pleading for everything he promised. Then he did this thing to her ear with his teeth that, for some otherworldly reason, had her forgetting her own name, and she came with a sharp cry, bowing and twisting and jerking beneath him. 

He wasted no time in flipping her onto her stomach, stroking his palms from shoulder to knee, murmuring softly in her ear while she came back down. His cheek brushed across her back, reminding her of a cat in search of affection. Her breath caught in her throat and she arched into his touch, giving him all the space he wanted for rubbing against her. “Hands,” he murmured, already grasping her wrists. Carefully he manipulated her arms until they were folded behind her back, directing her to hold her own elbows and to not let go. 

Aislynn kept a firm grip and waited with bated breath. Her hair had fallen into her face, and dimly she was aware it meant the hair tie was lost within the rumpled bedding. She huffed and puffed until her eyes were uncovered and swiveled her head around until she could see what James was doing, choking on her tongue the moment her eyes landed on his figure. He had just straightened from removing his pants, and her eyes traveled hungrily up and down, eating him alive with her eyes. He had a full-blown Adonis belt and her brain just couldn’t handle the fact it painted such a delectable arrow to the hard length of his cock. The last time she had seen him nude, while also praiseworthy, did not do him justice. Mostly because he hadn’t been aroused at the time and her imagination could only do so much work without a guideline. 

Even scarred and mismatched, he was the single most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. 

James climbed back onto the bed, taking the belt in hand. “On your knees,” he commanded and she scurried to comply. His hum of approval had her heart swelling with pride, at least until it stuttered to a stop by his dragging the end along the back of her thighs. Her brain melted on the spot.  _Please, please, please_ , a soft voice in the back of her mind cried, that voice having been starved of the attention it needed for decades. She trembled and bit her lip to keep from whining, though her hips hiked higher into the air of their own accord. “Good girl.” Her cheeks flushed at his praise. 

The belt looped around her forearms, leaving just enough room that the buckle didn’t pinch her skin, and the extra length of leather was wrapped down to her wrists and tied off. He waited again while she tested the sturdiness of the hold and experimented with moving her hands, finding herself well and truly at his mercy. She sighed and squirmed, fingers flexing and searching for skin to feel. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face with a barely-there flick of his fingers. He traced the curve of her jaw, dragged his fingers down her neck and spine, petting her like a cat. His lips found her ear again and his voice was nothing more than a breath over her skin as he said, “You’re dripping, princess. Do you like this?”

Her body shook and she nodded her head as best she could, shifting on her knees so that his cock glanced across her ass. “Please,” she whimpered, pushing backward on her knees. “James, please. Do something!” Yearning turned her blood molten, spreading across her body and turning her pale flesh a dusky rose. Taunting was nice, built the expectation of what was to come. But everyone had a limit on their patience, and Aislynn was no different from others. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” James asked, petting her thighs, bringing his fingers ever closer to her aching core before they crept further away. “Tell me, Ash. What do you want?”

She bit her lip, thighs twitching with the struggle not to close just to relieve the pressure. “Fuck me,” she ground between her teeth. “Now.” 

He hummed, shifting his weight perceptively. “Like this?” The engorged crown of his cock slid through wet folds and he hissed, the sound vibrating along her back. 

“More,” she whined, attempting impale herself on him. She felt him prod lazily at her core, teasing her before sinking just the tip. “Yes! More, James, more!” 

His voice was strained when he replied, becoming a familiar sound. “How’s this?” he asked before snapping his hips forward, burrowing fully in one swift motion.

Aislynn’s blissful wail was muffled by the pillows and briefly she suppressed the memory of her hands being bound behind her back, jerking her arms and scrambling for purchase but her fingers coming up empty. James took her reaction for the shrieking demand of more for what it was and proceeded to turn her entire body into moldable gel. 

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her super-heated flesh, the chilled air doing nothing to cool her. Gone were the scents of her body wash and lotion, instead replaced by the smell of their combined sweat and arousal. It was her new favorite smell and wondered absently if she could bottle it for later. 

James fell into a pulsing rhythm, lulling her back to the present with the slam of his hips. His left arm was wrapped under her hips, right hand snaking up and down her torso, cupping and squeezing and teasing bits of hypersensitive flesh and lighting her nerve endings on fire without remorse. She was a ragdoll in his embrace, going where he deemed, taking what he was giving willingly. Again his name fell from her lips, a continuous benediction, until she could no longer form words. Blindly she turned her head and arched it back, mouth seeking another way to occupy its time. He yielded his own, tucking her body against his chest and meeting her halfway.

Her pleasurable sounds swallowed, Aislynn felt the flexing muscles of James’ abdomen against her palms and dug her nails in quick, the short tips imitating talons in her grip. He growled and her body responded in a flash, fluttering along his advancing cock. “Yes,” he groaned, his hand sliding from her hip to settle on her clit, the other abandoning her breast to grip her throat. 

Vision blurring, hearing fading, she muttered a guttural, “Oh, God,” and imploded from the grazing pressure of his fingers on her neck. She wasn’t completely certain, but she was pretty sure she could feel his grin against her shoulder, and he was joining her soon enough, riding them both right over that cliff of ecstasy and easing them back into reality. 

They crumbled onto the bed, legs tangled, breaths mingling between them. One Act of God later and she was staring directly into James’ eyes, falling into those liquid pools before she could stop herself. She could see the hint of fear in the depths, mingling with bated hunger. She took in the bashful curve of his swollen lips and returned the smile, putting him at ease. His shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly, his body loosening, and he moved to release the belt from her arms. “Easy,” he cautioned, caressing her sore limbs before placing them with care at her sides. “’Lright?”

Aislynn sighed dreamily, her eyes sliding closed. She nodded. “Perfect,” she murmured, exhaustion creeping upon her. “I didn’t realize how bad I needed that.” She wanted badly to scooch into his side and curl around him like a content kitten, but she was uncertain if he would be okay with it. Despite being there as his sound board for when he relieved those fogged memories, she didn’t know much else about him. What she did know, though, was he did not come off as a cuddler, and so she kept her hands to herself, curling her arms under her head and using them as a pillow.

“You’re welcome?” he chuckled, drawing his fingers over her back. She couldn’t place the designs, but she was confident in saying he placed a map of stars across her skin. It made her heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t mean it the way that sounded,” she assured him, rolling onto her side then moving closer so he could keep touching her. Every graze sent sparks flying below her skin, leaving dots of gooseflesh in its wake. Was there anything she didn’t find joy from at his hands? “It’s like... Only eating plain chocolate ice cream, though you stare at that frosted pint of fudge brownie but can’t afford to take it home every time. So you only indulge now and then, breaking the bank for the tiniest bites. I know I settled for plain ice cream every day since I was freed, and here and there I would manage to find fudge brownie, but it wasn’t the right brand.” James shot her an amused smirk, his brow crinkled in mild confusion. She snorted. “I know, that didn’t make any sense to me either.”

“No, it made sense,” he argued. “I didn’t take you for the kind to not go for what you want.”

“Hard to go for what I want when I was surrounded by so much bland for so long I stop bothering,” she countered, closing her eyes again tiredly. “I figured eventually it would pass, but clearly I was wrong.” Her eyes snapped back open to glare warningly at him. “That doesn’t mean every time will be like that, though. I still like variety.”

“So you want cheesecake as well,” he assumed. “You’re a demanding woman, you know that?”

“Damn right.” But she smiled and burrowed into the bedding, too lazy to get up and move the cover back just to lay right back down again. Later, when she had more energy, she would make that attempt. “You should probably toss the condom before it makes a mess,” she advised, smothering a yawn with her hand. “Because I’m not cleaning up after you.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” 

\----

Grindewald, Switzerland

May 2015

Aislynn was going to lodge a formal complaint against both Pete and James for the latest travesty. Really she was. What reason could they possibly use to  _not_  stay at such a nice damn hotel  _every_  time they traveled between destinations? Her room, while cheap, was absolutely fantastic! So much better than stretching out in the back seat with the passenger seat squishing feet while someone else drove all night long. She could weep with joy on behalf for un-sore toes!

After a long shower, she dressed for comfort in preparation for the next several hours on the road and combed out her long hair to braid. Her previously lightened hair had grown a considerable amount in the last year, her natural medium brunette shade on display from her roots to her shoulders.  _Maybe I should chop it off,_ she mused, twisting the chunks with nimble fingers until she had a pair of neat Dutch braids hanging down her back. A quick cut would take those blonde ends off her hands. It was just finding the time to do so without it looking hacked in the end. 

With her hair finished, she began to pack away from overnight clothing, bundling the semi-dirty clothes off to the side for freshening up the next day. As she was pulling the zipper up the track to close the bag, a heavy, persistent knock rattled her door. “Lenny,” Pete called, “let me in, quick!” Scowling at his urgent tone, she opened the door and stepped back to make room for him and James to enter. “Have you seen the news?”

Confusion set in quickly, because she had no clue why it mattered if she had watched the news. They were on a schedule and if they didn’t reach Vienna by nightfall, she was going to be stuck sleeping in the car. Again. “No, I was packing up so we could leave,” she stated, waving Pete toward the blacked-out screen. “Why? What’s the deal anyway?” She glanced between the two men, James simply shrugging his own confusion.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” James said, eyeballing the windows.  _Checking the state of the exits_ , she corrected herself. “He woke me up with this mess.”

Pete didn’t respond as he fiddled with the buttons on the television and increased the volume on a news station. Whatever channel it was came in English, but it didn’t matter to her what they were saying once Pete stepped aside. “This is the deal,” he said tensely, pointing uselessly to the screen. 

Across the bottom, the bulletin read in all caps, CRISIS IN SOKOVIA, the words punctuated by the grainy cell phone videos playing on the station in a loop. “What in the hell is that?” she asked, pointing at a blurred image on the screen. “Was that a robot? Are we about to be invaded by robots, Pete?” Aliens were one thing, a statistical probability according to Pete with the world’s governments nearly screaming for it to happen. But robots? On what looked to be a floating chunk of land?  _Yeah, I’m_ _gonna_ _call bullshit_ , she decided firmly. “Somebody was fucking around with a video editor, Pete. It’s pretty believable, but it’s a  _floating_ island.”

“It’s real!” he swore, showing her an on-site reporter giving a blow-by-blow account on Pete’s cell. “They are evacuating all the people onto a helicarrier right now. Something about a sentient robot or something bent on global annihilation. The Avengers are there and everything.”

“Those guys you keep dreaming about?” she teased him, growing only mildly concerned about the state of things if that bunch was around. They handled the alien thing rather well, right? Killer robots were right up their alley.

James, however, did not see the humor in the situation. “What?!” he barked, finally dragging his attention to the screen rather than inspecting her room. She frowned at the fury on his face, taken aback by his harsh display of emotion. Beneath that anger was fear, which was strange. Why would he possibly be scared of the Avengers?  _Or maybe he is scared_ for _them?_  Either way, it didn’t make sense to suddenly care about what was taking place in Sokovia when minutes ago he seemed rather bored with it all. She stepped aside before he could nudge her out of the way, watching as he crouched in front of the tv, just able to make out the footage of someone in blue fighting a robot. “What is that idiot thinking?!” he raged to himself, standing again just to pace the room.

Aislynn gaped at him, shocked to see this side of James, which was saying something considering the way they had met. The only times she witnessed such passion from him were the times they had sex, when he lowered his inhibitions and really got into it. But anger was never involved during those times. Had she ever witnessed his anger? She didn’t think so. “What idiot are you talking about?” she asked, Pete nodding his agreement to her question. “Do you know those guys?”

“Just that overgrown punk,” he replied with his eyes on the screen, sounding pained.

She flicked her gaze between him and the screen just in time to see that guy in blue go by. Which one was that, again?  _I knew I should have paid attention when Pete went over this._  There were seven—no, six people. Right?  _Yeah._  One was a woman. Redhead. It was unlikely he knew the big green guy, or else he wouldn’t call that one an idiot; that just seemed really dangerous. It was possible he meant the redhead, maybe, but that didn’t feel right either. The one in that metal suit flying about was a well-known idiot, so he didn’t count either.  _Oh, and there’s the god one! Thor!_  Thank you, Mythology 101.  _And the bow guy. He’s badass._  True.

He made a distressed noise in the back of his throat when that blue one came back. Wasn’t that the old guy?  _Oh, God, what was his name?!_ And why didn’t James ever mention he knew superheroes? Was he worried they would go all fangirl about it? Because Pete would be the only likely culprit and even then it would be a stretch of the imagination to think the younger man would go there. 

“I’ll be back,” she muttered, picking up her phone from the bed and sliding it into her back pocket. Neither paid her much mind as she slipped out. Sliding onto the back of the car she pulled the phone free and opened a search engine, determined to figure it out. Within minutes she solved one half of the puzzle: James was freaking the fuck out over Captain America. Weird choice to worry over, since a cursory glance at his basic information said he was pretty fucking hard to kill. Seriously, who else could turn into an ice cube for over half a century  _and wake up perfectly healthy_? What could a robot possibly do to him in the end?  _Well, there is the strong possibility of_ falling to his death _since they are up in the air._  Okay, that was a logical concern. It just didn’t explain the extent of James’ reaction. 

_Smokes. I need a smoke._  It was all so confusing and she just couldn’t formulate a decent reason for why he wouldn’t have told her he knew Captain America.  _Holy shit, he knows a celebrity?_  It was just enough to tip the scales into Freak Out territory. Distracted by the turn of events, Aislynn returned to the room and fished her wallet from the suitcase, the keys from the table by the TV.

When she returned, James was lounged on a nearby bench, his face wholly unreadable.  _Yeah, getting the smokes was necessary._  Dreading whatever was about to come from his mouth, Aislynn turned off the car and joined him on the bench. Silently she held up the cigarette pack and lighter. He snagged two from the untouched pack, lit the pair, and passed one to her. The inhaled smoke burned, but in a pleasant way, as it traveled down her throat to settle in her lungs. Even as she exhaled she could feel her lungs working to repair themselves, the tingling feeling strangely comforting. 

“Alright?” he asked after several minutes of silence. She shrugged, because she honestly didn’t know if she way feeling stable or not. He swiveled on the bench to face her. “Penny for your thoughts,” he tried again.

“You sure about that?” she asked, barely keeping the bitter tone from her words.

He nudged her with his foot, saying, “Have I ever made you think I didn’t want to know what was on your mind?”

"No," she concurred, "but telling you what's on my mind goes hand in hand with talking about your past. And I've already said I wasn't going to do that to you and I meant it. You deserve more respect than that, especially from me." She wasn't going to go back on her word because of something as silly as him knowing Captain America. No matter how much it grated her nerves that he kept it from her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, watching as the sun brightened the sky further. The air was warming by slow increments, giving her the perfect excuse to burrow further in her coat for protection. He stood suddenly and motioned for her to follow. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he asked as they walked toward the river. The area was near empty of other people, and even those were far enough away they couldn’t hear the conversation. “I know you have questions. I’ll answer them the best I can.”

Aislynn held her tongue for several minutes as she stared across the river at the mountains. While the lower sections held no snow, the top halves were another story. It was picturesque and she cursed herself for not thinking to grab her camera before leaving the room. “How do you know Captain America?” she blurted, struggling to make peace with the secret. “And why didn’t you tell me?” 

He appeared mildly amused by her inability to mind her own business but took pity on her anyway. “I’ve known him a long time,” he explained, though she swore she heard a splattering of half-truth in the mix. “And I didn’t tell you because I don’t know how I know him.”

She could understand the frustration buried under his statement. Over the last few months they had known each other, she had witnessed more than one instance of him only receiving mix-matched memories and the despair he refused to acknowledge himself wallowing in for days later. “The wiping thing?” she asked, finally turning her eyes onto him. It wasn’t a secret between them, the way Hydra had controlled him. She had held tight to his hand while he explained in clinical details the entire process. It was a dreadful device and she was glad to know he was no longer plagued by it. When he nodded, she asked, “What do you remember about him? Have you written it down?”

One day, Aislynn was certain, he was going to roll up one of those notebooks of his and shove it down her throat. Today, however, was not that day. He took her curiosity in stride, knew her concern came from a good place. “Yes, I have,” he said with a patient smile before it dropped into a scowl. “They aren’t whole memories. Just flashes. Or pictures. A scowl because he's angry at something, though I don't know what. Or he's laughing and I know it's because I said or did something stupid. And he's always so tiny, and sick. And I don't know why. But seeing him on that news cast, putting his life at risk..."

She bit the inside of her lip, not hard enough to spilt the skin but firm enough to slide across the bumps underneath. "Have you ever thought about asking him?" Aislynn hedged. James was torn up about not knowing the guy while feeling intense unease for his wellbeing. "Maybe he could tell you why you were so concerned." James tried to smile at her explanation but she could plainly see it was forced. She reached out for his hands and gave both a gentle squeeze. "He means something to you, James. He's important. Don't you want to know why? He could have been your best friend. Or hell, even your mortal enemy in grade school. You won't know until you do your own digging. I'm not saying you  _have_  to hunt him down and demand answers. But you should figure out what he means to you."

He squeezed her hands in return, saying, "According to that exhibit back in the States, we were friends. In the same unit. But I refused to believe it for a while."

She leaned down slightly to catch his eyes. "And now?"

He shrugged and mumbled reluctantly, "Maybe it wasn't completely lying?"

She had to smile at his stubbornness. “You’re something else, Barnes.” 

He didn’t deny her accusation, merely draped his arm over her shoulders and walked her back to the car. Pete was waiting on the back, his eyes riveted on the phone in his hands. Once they were certain all their belongings were packed away, they got back to the immediate task at hand of reaching Vienna. 

Days passed before the subject of Captain America reappeared, though she wouldn’t know it until much later. She and James were sparring, him determined to teach her more while she struggled to comprehend anything that required hand-eye-coordination. What had started out innocent enough had taken a quick turn sideways two hours into practicing clinching, with him being on the offense and her defense. He was never satisfied with her technique, kept pointing out when she hesitated. Over and over as they sparred, he forced her into a tie-up, until he was certain she wouldn't waver in laying out her opponent. It felt rather like Mortal Kombat, without the dying or weird outfits. In the end she was exhausted down to her bones and it wasn't even lunch time. "I'm done," she wheezed from the mat, stretched out like a starfish and sweating enough to look like she had taken a dip in the sea. 

He smirked down at her, and she wanted to have the energy to kick him in the shin. He wasn't even marginally glistening. It was so far from fair she could scream! "I hate you," she groaned, holding her hand into the air so he could pull her upright. 

When she was on her wobbly feet, he yanked her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her hostage. She fought a smile and twined her arms around his shoulders, fingers diving straight into that thick curtain of chocolate hair. "You keep saying that," he murmured, nudging at her nose with his, "but I don't think it means what you think it means."

"Ugh, I'm never watching  _Princess Bride_  with you again!" Aislynn complained, trying to remain firm of tone even when his hands danced up and down her back in tantalizing slowness. "You pick up the worst habits when watching movies with me, I swear." He hummed his agreement and bent his head to nuzzle his nose against her throat. She shivered visibly, her eyelids drifting downward to cover the slightly roll of her eyes. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?"

"I've got a few ideas," he informed her and began walking, forcing her to follow along or be trampled beneath him. 

She inhaled sharply when her back hit the wall, trapping her between it and his body. "What are those?" She asked breathily, tipping her head back to meet his hungered stare. She dragged her hands from his hair, danced her fingertips across his throat where his pulse beat steady, and traced the edge of his grey muscle shirt. Damn, did he look good in tight clothes. "I do remember promising you a blowjob if you helped me. Maybe I should..."

He nodded jerkily, fingers digging into her hips. "Get on that," he finished for her, twisting his hands until his fingers were under the edge of her tee. He tugged and lifted it from her body in one quick swoop, moving his upper body just enough to remove the offending garment before plastering himself back into place. His blue gaze flicked down to her breasts, and she watched openly as his pupils dilated further as he stared at her nipples beading through her thin bra. His jaw clenched and he jerked his eyes from her chest, bringing his right hand up to fist in her hair. "Down," he commanded, a growl barely leashed in his tone.

Panting with need, she dropped to the floor immediately, her hands trailing after. Her eyes followed the trail her fingers made over his torso, outlining the curve of metal across his pec before grazing his nipples. He grunted at the sensation and tightened his grip on her hair in warning. She grinned up at him and continued slipping her hands down his body. "Tell me," she murmured, looking up at him earnestly, fingertips curving enough to drag her nails along his abdomen. 

"Which one?"

She considered the question as she carried on with groping him. He had asked her once, not too long ago, what she  _truly_  wanted to hear with his dirty talk. It had taken her all of two seconds to blurt out, " _Tell me about the people you've fucked_ ," because she had to know where he learned the things he knew. It had been enlightening and arousing to hear him go into detail about the various people he had been with before they met, all while railing her into the next universe. "A guy," she decided, easing his shirt from his waistband. "I want to hear about a guy."

A rumble of approval vibrated the air. "There were a few," he answered, loosening his hold on her hair enough to brush a few strands out of her eyes. "But there was this one..." He smirked to himself, as if enjoying his secret. "He was this tiny thing, smaller than you." 

Her gaze shot to his face. "A twink," she murmured, and she worked his belt loose. "You fucked a twink." She could already see it in her mind, James's hulking body dwarfing the smaller man without even trying. "What'd he look like?" 

"Blonde," he said distractedly, subtly shifting his stance to keep her attention where he wanted it most. Her eyes riveted back to his hips and she went back to work, flicking the buttons free. He wore his usual black boxer briefs, and his exceptional cock was waiting just behind the stretched fabric, silently demanding she hold up her end of the deal. "Scrawny, but his ass... Damn, he had an ass on him that wouldn't quit." His cock swelled in front of her eyes, driving her to swallow back a moan. Her toes curled in her shoes and slowly, solely to drive him equally mad with need, she eased the elastic band of his boxers down his thighs. 

"What was it like?" Aislynn baited, her eyes tracking the way his boxers trapped his cock before it sprang free. She licked her lips readily, but kept on with pushing his clothes to his knees. His thighs were bare now, so she leaned forward and dragged her teeth across the twitchy inner flesh of his muscular leg, eliciting a deep groan overhead.

"Tight," he bit out, his hand resuming its earlier position within her hair. "It was like he was trying to strangle me every time I fucked him." He forced her to mouth a wet trail up his leg, silently demanding she stop toying with him. "But he did make some pretty sounds when he came," he added with a dreamy sigh, and one glance up told her he was half present with her and half in the past with his little blonde friend. "There is something he doesn't have on you, though."

She wrapped a hand around his shaft and stroked him once, his entire body jerking in response. "Oh?" she asked innocently. His lips twitched in amusement. "What's this thing that I have and he didn't?"

"He couldn't suck my dick the way you do," he said with a wicked grin.

She stared up at him, entranced with the sight of him boxing her against the wall and standing over her. He knew she liked the sense of losing control, and she knew he craved it zealously. It was the perfect trade off. "Well, aren't you in luck today," she whispered, pausing long enough to lick a long stripe along the underside of his cock, starting at his balls and ending at the swollen crown. He groaned again and dropped his head back on his shoulders, finally showing a crack in that badass posture. "Too bad you couldn't have the best of both, huh? Poor dear."

He scoffed at her provocation, saying, "You'd like it too much."

"Very true," she concurred. "Now shh, I have something I need to do and you're distracting me." His answering laugh was choked off by her mouth closing around his girth in one plunge, and wasn't that just the most exhilarating thing to happen in recent weeks? James riled and ready, groaning and bucking into her mouth as if his resolve was cracking simply because she was sucking on him like he was her favorite piece of candy. 

"Ahh," he moaned, looking down at her, hips working against his will. "Ash." His chest heaved with exact inhale and both hands locked onto her head, controlling her shallow movements to his liking. "Fuck, your mouth is perfect," he groaned, pushing further between her lips. She moaned in returned, her cheeks hollowing further. He cursed again and propelled his cock deeper, the head driving against her throat. 

More than happy to let him have his way, Aislynn held onto his thighs, appreciative with the firmness of his flesh there. It made for excellent purchase for moments such as these, where James chased that high he wanted so badly. It left her a mess afterward, but always a mess he was more than competent in satisfying with his rough passion. They locked stares once more in silent understanding and a deep, animalistic groan past his lips a beat before he took the reins. He found his rhythm quickly enough, moving smoothly between her wet lips. "Ughfffuck," he groaned, his teeth sinking into that beautiful lower lip she loved nibbling on herself. "Ugh yeah."

She relaxed her jaw further, digging her nails into his thighs. She had a time controlling her breathing, but she also enjoyed the feeling of him cutting it off. She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together in effort to relieve at least some of her need, and swallowed reflexively on his cock. He hissed and bucked again, fucking her mouth relentlessly. Give and take, it was a mutually satisfying endeavor in her opinion. He took his pleasure from her and in return, gave her more than she had doled out. In her opinion, also. 

Saliva dripped from her lips in thick streams, falling to the floor with neither caring much about the mess it would leave behind, and he held her mouth down on his entire length until she felt her lungs burn with the subconscious need to breathe. Then he pulled back with infinite care, allowing her the moment to catch her breath, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “You’re doing so well, Princess,” he praised and didn’t that just have her sitting a little bit taller? She wondered  _why_  he called her Princess, but never had the guts to ask. She simply basked in his affectionate pet names, whatever it was that came out of his mouth.

His thumb traced a line from her cheek to her lips, still firmly holding him in her mouth. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, brushing the swollen flesh so gently she shivered. His hips moved again, slower than earlier but bringing the crown of his erection to her lips before sinking back inside. “Where do you want it?”

She didn’t need to ask what ‘it' was. There was only one ‘it' on either of their minds. She moaned and shifted closer so that her lips closed firmly around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue along his frenulum in breathless impatience. He somehow managed to laugh at her eagerness. “Such a lady,” he smirked and slid his hands back into her hair, pooling it atop her head in a firm grip.

Aislynn stroked his flanks when he began to thrust repeatedly, gliding her hands up then down wherever she could reach. Honestly, he was built like a damn tree trunk, his thighs thick as a milkshake and just about as delicious on her tongue. One day, eventually, she was going to get him on his back and actually take her time licking him from the bottom up. Oh yes, including his feet. After a shower, anyway. She had some standards after all. 

James’s control devolved into sharp lunges and irregular breathing. She quivered, awaiting that moment when his come would land on her tongue. She helped where she could manage, her head bent at an awkward angle and firmly in place. Her suction tightened and her tongue rubbed, reaching the sensitive nerve endings her lips couldn’t kiss. He cursed and moaned and jerked his hips one last time, spilling his release with her name on his bitten lips. 

She would never tire of seeing his body mid-climax. His forehead wrinkled and his eyebrows drew in together tightly. He fought to keep his eyes open, his mouth lax in a silent cry. His upper body tensed, muscles standing out beneath his flawless skin. It was art, a sight to behold. Everything he did was a gift, one she enjoyed to open frequently. 

She drank down his release and his body began to relax, starting in his thighs, traveling up his torso, and ending in his fingertips. His erection slackened until he was half mast, which was still impressively in its own right, and James helped her to her feet, holding her against the wall with his lower body until she regained feeling in her legs. It was painful, but she didn’t notice when he was kissing her, the sensation so consuming a bomb could go off next to her unobserved. She smiled against his lips and draped her arms over his shoulders, soaking up his attention like a combustible sponge. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, easing up on his kisses until they were simple pecks on her lips. He tipped his head slightly and looked down at her, eyeing the lace cups of her bra with interest. “You know what?”

Her lips twitched as she held back a smile. “Hmm? What’s that?”

“You,” he murmured, hooking one blue strap beneath his finger, “are wearing far too much.” She chuckled and nodded her agreement, shifting until she was pressed firmly against his groin. “But the question is, how do we remedy that?” 

The look in his eyes said he had a good idea of how to remove her clothes, but she wouldn’t like it. “As long as I still have pants that are in one piece,” she said. “And my shirt. Don’t rip up my shirt to tie me to something. I do need to get back to the flat eventually.”

He pouted,  _pouted_ , at the firm suggestion. “We could just stay here,” he negotiated.

“You’re good to lay on, but I think after a few hours of sleeping on top of you, one of us would be regretting the decision.”

He groaned and mumbled, “Fine. Pants and shirt stay in one piece.” He smirked and reached behind her back with that bionic arm, fisting the clasp of her bra. Her eyes widened in alarm just as she heard a telltale rip and snap when stitches popped. A blink later the once perfectly acceptable bra was dangling from her wrists in tatters. “You didn’t say a word about that,” he was quick to point out, discarding the garment like it was nothing important. 

_Well, it’s useless now_. “That’s true,” she muttered, unsure if she should feel self-righteously angry or deliriously horny. Her body handled the decision for her, thankfully, by flooding her lower body with sexual heat. She shifted again, felt her panties glide wetly against smooth skin. “Why was that so hot? You ruined a comfortable bra.  _Why was it hot!_ ”

He chuckled and ran his hands down her sides, settling on her hips at last. “Why ask something so ridiculous?” James asked. “You’re a little bit twisted.” He kissed her, long and slow, exploring her mouth thoroughly. “I like it,” he murmured against her mouth then grinned at the dazed expression on her face. “Though you did give me an idea of what we could use the scraps for.”

She thought back to what she had said in concerns of ripped clothing.  _Tie me up_ , was all that stood out. “ _Oh Jesus_ ,” she moaned, clawing at his shoulders. What was this power he had over her, to turn her into some mindless…  _thing_  who couldn’t think further than how long it took to get relief. “Do it again. Then fuck me stupid.” She groaned and rubbed against his body, her eyes pleading. “Please, James, do it again and fuck me.”

His cheeks flushed suddenly and his face flickered with uncertainty. “Can you try something this time? For me?” he asked bashfully, and that had her undivided attention. He had never been shy with requesting things from her, especially once he found out she was down for just about anything. What could have him blushing and  _asking_  her for a favor? Aislynn nodded right off and he said, “Ca-call me Bucky?”

She blinked.  _Bucky?_  Aislynn wondered. Then she had to restrain herself from blurting out a million questions. He obviously remembered something else about his past. Who was she to argue with him about it? Even if she was preferred calling him James because it was all she knew him by. “Of course,” she said with a playful grin. “I told you, I’ll call you whatever you want.” She leaned in, kissed his lips once. “Bucky.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes squeezed shut. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he tightened his hold on her body and twisted their position until they were on the floor. When he opened his eyes, there was a fierceness that took her breath away.  _Yeah, so calling him that for the rest of my life_ , she decided, melting under the inferno of his gaze. It had been the right decision to go along with his request, no matter that it was a no brainer to begin with. 

His touch gentled perceptibly as he arranged her body on the floor and knelt between her parted thighs. Laying over her, he pressed airy kisses along her neck and clavicle, his hands stroking her sides with care. “Thank you,” he muttered against her breast, cupping both in his palms and lifting them to his mouth. She choked on a moan and ran her fingers into his hand, holding him close as he switched back and forth with open-mouth kisses. She cursed and lifted her hips, seeking out just the tiny bit of friction she needed to explode. The gracious hunk that he was, Ja-  _Bucky_  moved his thigh so she could rock against him. 

Her entire body jerked seconds later as that building heat rushing from her pussy, leaving her chanting his name. She slipped only once, calling him James initially before switching to his chosen name. She had to admit, as she floated back down from climax, she liked saying it.  _Bucky_. There were so many ‘accidental’ slip ups she could make, just to make him break into laughter.  _All the possibilities!_

She grinned dreamily and dragged her fingers lazily down his spine. He lifted his head minutely, smirked back at her, and slithered down her body. “I’m not done with you yet,” he mumbled into her stomach, fingers pushing at the waistband of her pants. He stripped her of her pants and shoes, grinned mischievously, and wound the thin straps of her panties around his fingers. She grinned back, daring him to continue, as if there was a doubt he wouldn’t do it regardless. They both laughed when the straps popped, though the sound died momentarily when he chunked the scrap aside and stared at her. “Fuck,” he muttered, sitting back on his feet.

She squirmed under his relentless pursuit and tried closing her thighs, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh uh,” he said, forcing her knees wide apart. It was her turn to watch him, fascinated with the shimmery hand that wrapped around his heavy shaft and began stroking it back to fullness. It was like he was touching her with that hand as well, what with that tingling sensation starting just beneath her skin and whirling lazily through her body just to settle between her legs. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_  He knew how much she loved watching him jerk off, though usually she was dressed and interrupting a shower. What could she say, he was extra glorious soaking wet and covered in suds. “Bucky,” she whined, squirming against the cool air. “Come  _on_. I want it.”

He laughed lazily and said, “Then come get it.” 

She hesitated all of two seconds before launching herself into his lap. With only the slightest help from him, the lazy bastard, Aislynn was able to impale herself in one creamy stroke. They groaned in unison and he latched onto her hips once she began to move, both in a hurry to reach a peak. 

It was quick and sloppy, but Aislynn didn’t care for finesse and flair. Not with the way he was grinding her clit against his groin, leaving her a bumbling, incoherent mess in his arms. “Buck,” she whimpered, jerking ever closer. “Fuck, _yes_! Ohmigodbucky!” Sobbing she bit into his shoulder, relieved to absently note that it was not the metal side. He gripped her ass cheeks in both hands with that lascivious groan of his vibrating her chest and moved her freely, using her own momentum to fuck her and evoking her to cry into his shoulder.

“Sssshit,” he slurred, the muscles in his neck and shoulder trembling under her fingers. “So good, Ash,” he murmured, raining nibbling kisses across her neck and jaw. “You feel so good, Princess. You fuck me so good.” Their mouths meshed in another kiss, though it was more of them sharing the same breath.

She hissed as one particular thrust hit all the right places and tossed her head back. “Oh fuck,” she moaned, locking her ankles behind his back. That fire, the one growing fervently in her gut, erupted into an inferno without delay. She keened his name again and again as she came, and she heard him groan as he joined her. They rocked as one until they floated back to earth. Aislynn tingled all over, that delicious afterglow hanging over her the same way she hung over Bucky. “Ripping clothes,” she muttered against his glistening neck. “Best. Idea. Ever.”

“Knew it would be,” he mumbled in reply, earning himself a poke to the side. “Hey, watch it. I just had an intense work out. I need to regain my energy.”

Aislynn didn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in her throat. “ _That_  was your work out?” she asked for clarification. He nodded seriously. “No wonder people want you. Sex rampage sounds amazing when you’re involved.”

He chuckled and they untangled themselves from each other. She turned away to gather her clothes and redress. “You need a shower,” he said, reaching over to nip at her upper back. “You stink.”

Shrieking in mock outrage, she spun and smacked his arm. “You don’t smell like roses yourself, cupcake,” she pointed out, staring blatantly as he pulled up his pants and fixed his shirt. “You need one just as much as I do.”

His eyes widened with innocent shock. “I have another idea,” he claimed, tossing her tee into her hands. “Why don’t we kill two birds with one shower?”

She giggled, pulling on her tee. “That’s a great idea, Barnes. Where are you getting all them from today?” 

He gathered her close and nuzzled her neck. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She would, she really would. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

Had Aislynn been paying closer attention, she would have recognized the signs. It wasn’t until she woke four days later to the other side of the bed empty and the closet bare of anything not hers, that something far more important happened that day Sokovia fell from the sky. James, Bucky, whatever he was choosing to call himself, had some sort of eye-opening affirmation that day. Had she bothered to look, she would have sensed his apprehension while in her company. Would have noticed he looked at her differently. 

As it was, she missed it all and it was too late to change it.

James “Bucky" Barnes was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Washington, D.C.

August 2015

It was unreal. 

If she didn’t know otherwise, didn’t hear it from the man himself, she wouldn’t have believed what her eyes were seeing. 

How?

_Why_?

“You’re seeing this too, right?”

Aislynn ignored Pete in favor of finding the nearest bench and dropping onto the seat. Everywhere she looked was Bucky. The painted group mural, complete with dressed mannequins. Photos on the wall. Snippets of vintage footage. Even the floor to ceiling dedication with  _his damn face on it_! 

Part of her had hope he had been wrong, that he was simply taking another’s life as his own via something he had read. Or whatever. Nothing could prepare her for the truth: Hydra had taken a good man, twisted him into something unworldly, and kept him as a pet for longer than even she had been alive. They had taken everything from him.

Her stomach churned in nauseating distress.

“Breathe, before you draw a crowd,” Pete hissed, sitting on her left to block her from most of the exhibit and the majority of the crowd. “It’ll be rather difficult to explain why you blacked out in the middle of this place.” 

Aislynn braced her elbows on her knees, folded her hands together, and pressed her mouth to her steepled fingers. Her time with her father’s henchmen was  _nothing_  compared to his. Maybe a bad spa experience.  _Decades. Decades lost._  “Pete,” she breathed, her head lulling to the side so she could look at her friend. She was borderline in tears and she had done nothing more than take a single look around. And she had paid a lot of money to see what Bucky had saw, to confirm one way or the other if he truly who he thought he was. She didn’t know if she could make it through the exhibit, not knowing the truth.

He didn’t need words to understand what she was imparting on him. “I know,” he murmured, draping a comforting arm around her back. “I know.” He squeezed her arm. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Our plane leaves tomorrow morning,” she said. “I put this off long enough. I have to know.”

“And you think you’ll know just by walking around in here?”

“Considering his phone stopped working the day he left,” she reminded him, “this could be the only way I know for sure. He left for a reason, Pete. And it had more to do with something he remembered right before than anything else. What if I’m right and I’m making a mess of myself over a taken man?”

Pete muttered, “I don’t think they are together these days.”

“Pete,” she groaned, elbowing his side.

He rubbed the spot where her pointed elbow jabbed his rib. “I still think your conscience is clear here, Lenny. Kinda hard to remain faithful to someone you don’t remember, right? And there is a good chance you’re not going to find what you are looking for here. Or any book, for that matter. Think about it,” he added softly, leaning closer so his deep voice wouldn’t carry through the exhibit. “It was the 40s. If they were together and slipped even the slightest, they were both screwed. And not in the good way. You’re gonna have to wait for him to contact you or you’re gonna have to stalk his better half, kidnap him, and force him to tell you everything. And something tells me the latter will end with you either in prison for assaulting a national icon or dead.”

God, Pete was right. She rubbed her face viciously, trying to warm up the smarter cells in her brain. She wouldn’t find confirmation in a museum exhibit placing a singular man on a heavenly pedestal that he was in an intimate relationship with his best friend. There was a chance, yes, her suspicions were true, but America wouldn’t allow its poster boy for wholesome values to dare be tied to such things. Heads would explode. 

She giggled at the thought.

“What? What did I say?”

Aislynn shook her head and tried to smother the sound of her hysterical laughter. “Just thinking,” she said between bouts of giggles, “if it’s true. And everyone found out.” She mimed her own head exploding and nearly fell over with the giggles. 

Pete fought a good fight against joining her. “You need air,” he said with a fond, permissive grin. When she finally regained control of herself, he patted her back. “So what’ll it be? Exhibit or air?”

She found the thought of leaving this place behind intriguing, mostly because she wouldn’t have to see Bucky all over the place. Her eyes landed on the plaque, though, and she knew she couldn’t leave yet. She wasn’t ready to put him behind her. Not yet. “Exhibit.” Because she had a bone deep feeling it would be a very long time before she laid eyes on the man again. 

Pete, resigned of her decision, twined their arms and lead the way around the displays. They acknowledged the strangeness of seeing their friend in black and white, their words whispered back and forth inches from each other’s ears. Laughing with his friend, his unit. “He has an excellent duckface,” Pete said after a while of staring at that massive mural behind the dressed mannequins, causing her to choke on a laugh. “Do you think he did it on purpose?” Later, “Think they will let me snag that coat? And that beret? I could totally rock that look.” 

Ridiculous. She turned him away from the display, grateful for the way he distracted her with his ludicrous notions. “You’d be on the cover of Vanity Fair, Prison edition,” she agreed, laying her head on his shoulder. “Best looking dude in block C. They would all go to you for fashion tips.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why say it like that? Because my fashion sense  _is_  superb,” he pointed out. She spared him a single once over before scoffing her disagreement. “Hey, it’s an off day, Pom Pom.”

Aislynn patted her braided pigtails, fluffing the balled ends. She was still adjusting to the shortened length after a week, feeling strange without her hair falling to her lower back. “At least my hair is trendy. Who wears pleated pants? Other than weird computer nerds,” she added before he could latch on to the demographic. “And the elderly. At least when they wear pleats, it’s with something that matches in style.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“You look like you’re trying to be a lumberjack’s basement-dwelling lovechild.”

He sighed. “It’s a good thing I like this shirt, and that your fashion sense is gutter trash, otherwise I would be hurt right now.” She glared at him. “The rips in your jeans have rips, Lenny. You have no room to say a thing about me wanting to wear a beret.”

“I’ll give you that,” she conceded, pausing by a bank of video clips. “Would you believe me if I said I like the rips because it keeps my fingers occupied to play with the dangling white things?”

“Yes, because you fidget way too much.” He nodded to the video of Bucky and his friend laughing, leaning over to whisper dramatically, “He just said, what the fuck. Were they allowed to say fuck back then? Weren’t they supposed to be all straight-laced and stuff?”

She whispered back, “We said it in the seventies. Then got high on LSD and had massive orgies.”

“Boomers,” he commented, as if it explained everything.

They meandered through the rest of the exhibit, Pete filling her pained silences with his quirky jokes that always devolved into lighthearted bantering that cleared her mind. Hours later they stepped into the bright sunlight and suffocating heat, and Aislynn was thankful she picked up her hair before leaving the hotel room. The heat was next to unbearable and they made a collective decision to return to the hotel. 

Throughout the day she replayed what she knew already about Bucky and what she had learned that morning. Why  _did_  Hydra take him? And what did they do with him over the years? His skillset was unparalleled. Did they put him to use? Force him to do things that kept him awake at night? They took his memories, gave him the arm. It wasn’t a hard leap to decide they didn’t just keep him around for his pretty face. They did the wipes, the arm, for a reason. And she had a sick feeling the reason was more than slightly disturbing. 

During dinner of a shared pizza and made-for-TV movie, Aislynn made a decision. “You still friends with that computer guy?” she asked, picking at the cooling cheese on the top of her pizza slice. Pete, mouth overflowing with food, nodded his head. Said ‘computer guy’ was a literal basement dweller, former government asset type. He made magic happen with a keyboard. Somehow. She didn’t understand it, but she trusted his skills enough to not hesitate to make her request.  _And the fact Pete won’t do it himself._  He was picky like that. “Can you talk to him and see if he can sift through that data dump from last year for anything related to Bucky?”

Her friend stared at her like she had grown a second head and hastily swallowed his food. “What makes you think he would be found in any of that?”

“Why not? Look, we both know they got their hands on him back then,” she remarked. “There  _will_  be records. There will be a paper trail. Hell, I know what they did to me would be in those files. They needed to be sure their experiments were documented. They were  _scientists_. Twisted, soulless scientists. Logical conclusion, Bucky’s in there too.”

For the longest time it appeared that Pete wouldn’t respond. He stared at the television, half-eaten pizza slice laying discarded on the lid of the box. The movie credits rolled and still he hadn’t spoken. Despair blossomed in her chest; it would take her months to go through those files herself, as she did not know what to look for and wouldn’t know where to begin. She needed the  _help_. Needed to know what they did to him. What they made him do. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Pete stated finally, his tone disapproving, angry. “I don’t see the point in knowing, of putting yourself through it. It won’t change what happened, won’t help you understand him any better than you already do. But,” he stressed when she opened her mouth to explain, “I’ll do it.”

She could have kissed him. It wasn’t an assurance anything would come of talking to his friend, but it meant a lot he would go against his better judgement to do this for her. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging him tight. 

The next day they were home, back to finding an available apartment for rent and searching for employment. Back to life as normal, everyday citizens. So  _boring_  after the last year of excitement. Luckily, she had a job that allowed for her to take an extended leave of absence and she was able to return to her nursing job. Pete was in much the same boat, his skills on a computer so proficient companies were practically beating down his door to get him to work for them.  _Annoying_ , she thought fondly. Soon enough it was business as usual.

Typical of Aislynn, it had taken longer than humanly possible for her to understand  _why_ she cared so much about what happened to Bucky. She laid in bed awake at night, asking herself what she was doing demanding all these answers, knowing it wasn’t her right. He was her friend, was her excuse. She cared to know her friends were taken care of, loved. 

Then one day, while leaving the Jackson Brewery, she glanced over the sea of tourists and locals, feeling restless all the way down in her soul. For weeks she argued with herself about her feelings for Bucky: Part of her insisted he was her friend and simply enjoyed the enthusiastic sex enough to form an attachment, while another part screamed her attachment had nothing to do with sex at all. She was having another one of those internal debates while she waited at the street corner for a break in traffic to cross the street, prepared to return to work three blocks away, when she saw him.

Bucky.

Walking toward Pirate Alley. 

In broad daylight.

Her brain shorted out. Thoughtlessly she took off running in his direction, ignoring the angry horns and screeching tires of the cars that had to slam brakes to avoid hitting her. All she cared about what finding him, catching him, demanding answers for why he left. Why did he leave her alone? What was so special about that friend of his that warranted his ghosting her in the dead of night, not even leaving a trace that he ever existed in her life? Why would he be so cruel?  _How_  could he?

She bobbed around slowpoke tourists, dodged running children, and narrowly missed knocking over an artist’s stand in her haste to reach the alley. He was here, in her city. She could feel it in her bones. Was he looking for her?  _I’m right here, you giant fucking asshole!_  “’Cuse me,” she panted, dancing around the woman blocking the damn walkway while trying to take a picture. Where did he go? He was right there! She  _knew_  she had seen him, he was right there! 

She came to a stop at the opposite end of the alley, adrenaline coursing and leaving her gasping for air. Left and right she looked, but nothing. The few people walking along Royal were either not his height, did not have the same shade of hair. Were the wrong gender entirely.  _But... he was here!_

Swiveling, she spotted the café in the center of the alley. Maybe... Taking more care of the crowds, she entered the café and looked around, already annoyed with the amount of people wearing pirate costumes who were blocking her line of sight with their silly ha— _There!_  Aislynn squeezed between the tables and grasped Bucky’s arm, tugging him until he turned.

“Uh, can I help you?” 

Her heart shattered as she stared at the man in front of her.  _Not Bucky._  But definitely the man she had seen minutes ago and chased across a busy intersection to find. His long hair was the right shade, he even sported a thick beard across his face and neck. But his eyes were a dull brown and his body was... all wrong. “Sorry,” she muttered, releasing the man’s arm. “Thought you were a... friend of mine,” she added, surprised at how difficult it had been to call Bucky her friend. So inconsequential, friend. He was so much more than that.  _Everything_ , her heart wept. 

The man smiled politely and nodded away her apology. “No worries,” he assured her. “Good luck finding your friend.”

Aislynn left the café with the weight of the world bearing down on her shoulders. It was all wrong. All of it. Tears burned her eyes to the point she could barely see the sidewalk in front of her. Somehow, some way, she made it to her car and sat with the icy air blowing on her face, drying her tears moments after they landed on her cheeks. 

It was like losing him all over again, her heart ripping, leaving her bleeding out.

There was a suspicious popping noise coming from the dashboard and she dried her face onto her scrub sleeve in time to see smoke begin to rise from the vents against the window.  _Huh?_  From her fingertips wild sparks bounced back and forth, calling closer the finer sparks dancing over the dash. Her brain, fogged with grief, dimly registered she had just fried her car with how upset she became.  _And now I have no car._  

When it rained, it poured.

It took several minutes more to calm herself enough to call first her boss to beg off the remainder of the day then Pete to pick her up. Last call was to a tow service to haul her car to a nearby shop, with the hope of the damage being fixable. To be safe, she shoved the phone into her purse so she didn’t fry it as well. Sunglasses in place, she sat on the trunk and waited for her friend to arrive, turning the realization that she loved Bucky over and over in her mind, desperately trying to come to terms with what she hadn’t seen all along. 

The evening didn’t fare any better, what with her laptop melting, the toaster exploding, and the living room ceiling fan hanging dangerously from a single wire. Pete boiled a pot of water on the stove and poured two cups of hot tea to soothe her. “Sit, Lenny,” he suggested, patting the couch cushion beside him welcomingly. “It’ll be okay once you relax.” How many times had they gone through this exact situation before? He devised a plan along the way of what would and wouldn’t work, so she sat beside him and he enveloped her in a warm hug, radiating soothing comfort. 

It helped. A lot.

By the end of October, convinced she saw Bucky everywhere she went and losing control of her power more and more in response, she could no longer deal with constantly replacing items in the apartment. The complex manager had begun to threaten to kick them out if they didn’t quit doing whatever it was that caused the electrical shorts, not to mention it was getting expensive. She had to get out of the city, before she hurt someone with her unstable power. 

When she confessed to Pete how she had been functioning of late, seeing Bucky everywhere and soaking in untold amounts of electrical energy, he understood her need to run and hide. Didn’t even question her.  “It’s stress,” he said reassuringly. “The last year has been a roller coaster and it’s signaling an upgrade in your power. Your body is weak, so it’s charging itself. You hurt emotionally, so it sets out to protect you. That’s all it is.”

She knew he was right. Her power had always sought to protect her from perceived threats, from the very beginning. She just worried that, in protecting her the strain of emotional pain, her power would injure an innocent person. Or, hell of it all, would cause an entire electrical grid to shut down. “I need to get away from here,” she told him, winding her arms around her legs and hugging herself as tight as possible. 

“I’ve got this covered.”

By covered, Pete apparently meant he purchased a small piece of land and had two tiny houses built side-by-side half an hour from where they currently lived. There were no neighbors for miles, which was great for the general public if she had a power surge or whatever. It just didn’t explain how he had gotten his hands on enough money for the land or the little homes. “Easy peasy,” he said, then waved his hands around at the trees surrounding them. “Auction. It’s only a couple acres, but you would be shocked to see how little it costs for a plot. Two towns over, a dozen acres for less than $25,000. Seriously, I think I’ve found my future career if this computer thing doesn’t pan out.”

Aislynn nodded at the tiny structures. “And these?”

“Would you believe those are remodeled sheds that a friend of mine offered to fix up for taking care of his stocks?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” She narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. “How did you pay for any of this, Pete? Are you robbing banks or something?”

“No!” he denied, thoroughly offended she would dare say such a thing. “It’s called smart investing. You should read up on it some time, Negative Nancy.” He huffed and stomped away, muttering under his breath about how mistrusting she could be. 

And didn’t that just make her feel rotten. Sighing, she caught up to him at the door of the house on the left and apologized. “Though you can’t blame me for being worried,” she added. “You never let on you had--”

“We,” he corrected. “ _We_  have a lot of money. Yes, I took care of your retirement funds. Though we have no clue when you’ll be able to retire, with how young you look. Nobody would believe you are nearing sixty with your complexion.”

“And the fact I have the body of a twenty five year old and zero wrinkles would have nothing to do with it?” she added, looking between the two houses. Eventually she sighed and conceded to accepting the good fortune brought on by Pete. “So, which one is supposed to be mine?” He pointed to the one on the right and passed her a key, smiling broadly at how quickly she accepted their new living accommodations. Honestly, she didn’t have the mental energy to do much else. Maybe when she was less stressed, she would blow a gasket. But for now, she would take advantage of what he had done.

A week later, Aislynn received a flash drive in the mail from Pete’s computer buddy. 

It took another week to summon the courage to read the files.

Pete had been right all along: It had been a horrible idea to look into Bucky’s missing years. 

 

She lay awake nightly, her mind replaying the sections she could translate, filling in the blanks for what she couldn’t comprehend. Gone was Bucky’s beautiful smile that haunted her dreams, replaced instead with screams of terror her mind created from nothing. Every moment of torture he endured, played like a movie behind her eyelids. Sensory deprivation. Food and water withheld when he didn’t perform to satisfaction. Complete annihilation of everything that made Bucky, Bucky.

Left in his place was a shell of a man, remade into their image, into a robot. A perfect robot soldier who followed their orders without question. Until he did question their directives and was punished and his memory wiped. 

She lay in the center of her bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, one arm thrown out, the other draped across her forehead. As if it would keep the dreams at bay. As if she would stop hearing his screams, real or imagined. As if she would stop seeing his body, broken and defeated, curled up in some icy cell devoid of all light and sound. 

Hatred bubbled in her belly, hatred for what they had done for the sake of science and their neurotic ideology. It was no wonder, now, why Bucky had been so closed off for so long. She found herself astonished he ever opened up to her the way he did. She hadn’t gone through a tenth of what he did and years later she only ever opened up to Pete, still pushing away everyone she knew. Even Bucky hadn’t been an exception, having only been told bits and pieces over the months they were acquainted. Her excuse had been she was unwilling to burden him with her truth, when his was so tremendous.

_And yet, I still feel like I failed him in some way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story! Words can't express how excited I was to see so many readers. ^.^ Seriously, I would walk around for hours with a smile a mile wide. Thank you all.
> 
> There is a Part 2 in the works. I won't be posting it until it is finished, though, because I know I'll end up abandoning it halfway through and I can't do that to anyone. Hopefully it'll be ready soon, but I'm absentminded and easily distracted. 
> 
> XoXo


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